


Want You More

by Demenior



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, F/M, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my 30 Day OT4 Challenge. Rating will vary by chapter.</p><p>The four of them never thought they would all work together (but they sure hoped it would) and all things considered, it's surprisingly normal. They deal with their everyday lives and troubles just like anyone else. They just have a harder time figuring out who pays the bill at the end of their dates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

It’s summertime in the 20th century and they had just moved into their first apartment together. They were both giggling drunk from a visit to a speakeasy. Bucky had opened the window, along with his shirt, and they were perched halfway in the room and halfway on the fire escape. Steve laughed as Bucky fumbled for his pack of cigarettes and dropped them at their feet inside the apartment.

“Probably shouldn’t,” Bucky mumbled, looking but making no move to pick them up, “with you here.”

Steve decides to toss his head back and laugh rather than dwell on how Bucky is always thinking about ways around Steve’s body. He wants to pretend, for a few moments, that there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just a late bloomer and pretty soon he’ll have shoulders as wide as Bucky’s and strong hands to throw punches.

He’s unprepared for the way his mind is a few paces behind his movements, and almost falls off the windowsill. Bucky grabs him by the front of his shirt, lunging across the small space so his face is right up in Steve’s. Steve grabbed Bucky’s wrist, thick enough he couldn’t get his fingers all the way around, to steady himself.

Bucky looks like he’s about to scold him for something, like not watching his limit or being clumsy, but instead breaks into a wide smile that lights up his face like he’s the sun or something.

Steve waits for Bucky to say something, or lean back, but Bucky just keeps staring at him with that big smile on his mug. Long enough that Steve starts to laugh because he’s not sure what else to do, and Bucky laughs because _everything’s_ just so funny right now.

Without warning Bucky leaned forwards and planted his face in Steve’s chest, his forehead pressed uncomfortably into Steve’s collarbone. For a moment Steve thought he might have fallen asleep, but Bucky turns his head to look into their dark apartment. It’s not something either of them would have called a home only a few years ago. It’s dirty, small and has a peculiar, foul smell. There’s no furniture in it, save for some milk crates they stole off the curb and one narrow mattress they are sharing until they can buy another. They’ve got one pot, three forks, two plates, a mug and a flask between them.

“This is our home,” Bucky whispered. He sounds, for a moment, like his voice might crack with how proud he is. Steve can feel a matching lump in his throat. They aren’t on the streets, they aren’t dead. They aren’t relying on anyone to take care of them anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve croaked out.

Bucky shifted closer and pressed his forehead against Steve’s. His skin felt clammy in the summer heat, but refreshingly cool at the same time. He let go of Steve’s shirt and grabbed Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Steve’s hands were so much smaller in comparison. His fingertips barely reaching the last knuckle on Bucky’s in the brief moment their hands were aligned, his palm nowhere near as broad. Neither of them had calluses yet, from doing men’s work, but they shared split knuckles from the same fights. Even with all their differences their hands still seemed to fit together, like the two of them always fit together no matter what. Two puzzle pieces from different sets that worked, against all odds.

“This is our home,” Bucky said again, and Steve was grinning with him, squeezing Bucky’s hand, “and we’re gonna be so happy here Steve. We’re gonna live like real men—no one telling us what to do, or what to eat. We can do anything and nothing’s gonna stop it.”

“Anything,” Steve repeated. In that moment, they both believed it.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s summertime in the 21st century, and so the Avengers are having a relaxing barbeque that also doubles as a reason to catch up with one another, because it’s been months since all of them gathered in one place at the same time.

They’re at the cabin, outside the city, and in what Tony proclaims ‘the middle of fucking nowhere’ before Pepper elbows him in the ribs. Originally it was Sam’s, or what Sam was thinking of going into debt for, but with the combined total of Steve and Natasha’s savings it was now Their cabin. For the four of them to escape the city and prying eyes.

Out here they don’t have to be worried about being seen together and what people might make of them. Steve is free to kiss his boyfriend, his girlfriend and his other boyfriend, and doesn’t have to worry about a media frenzy invading their lives. He refrains (mostly) from kissing them all day because once he starts he finds it very hard to stop.

They’ve all gathered on the back deck, overlooking the lake. Thor and Steve had carried the couch from the living room out so there were enough seats, and the chairs had been arranged to leave an open space in the middle. The sun was just going down, and Sam went to turn on the white lights he’d spent hours stringing up, turning the entire scene into something out of a movie.

Tony had music playing, but was engaged in chatting up Jane Foster and declined Pepper’s invitation to dance. Bucky had leapt at the opportunity and was teaching Pepper how to swing-dance. Natasha and Bruce were half-heartedly trying to learn by observation, but also enjoying their own slower pace. Clint was learning Asgardian dances from Thor, and teaching a few terribly outdated moves of his own.

Sam came back to the bench Steve was sitting on, carrying two beers with him. He sat down, close enough that their shoulders touched, and opened both beers with the Falcon bottle opener Clint had found in a dollar store. Sam had an entire stash of Falcon memorabilia, and kept getting in trouble for signing things because management never believed he was the actual Falcon.

Steve took a beer, and the kiss Sam wanted to steal, with a smile.

“This is pretty great,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little dumb from the kiss, “Yeah. It’s so great.”

He reached into Sam’s lap to grab his hand, and saw the split-second of panic when Sam thought Steve was attempting something altogether different.

Choosing to ignore it rather than tease him, Steve squeezed Sam’s hand in his, and pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles. A long time ago, Sam’s hands would have dwarfed Steve’s just like Bucky’s, but nowadays Steve has long, thick fingers and broad palms. Sam’s hands feel soft in comparison, and his fingers are made for delicate motions like Steve’s were before the serum. They fit together differently, not the way Steve and Bucky’s hands did, and still do, but it’s perfect all the same.

Pepper shrieked loudly as Bucky flipped her over his shoulder, and they two of them were laughing as he set her down on her feet. Bucky’s eyes were bright and his face was full of laughter lines. He spun Pepper around and dipped her before she could catch her breath.

“He really loves dancing,” Natasha commented, watching the display as she walked up to them. Bruce was trailing just behind, unable to take his eyes off of the two dancers either.

Natasha held out a hand to Steve, and he offered her his beer. She tilted her head back as she drank, possibly a little showier than was necessary. Steve tugged her into his lap, wrapping his free hand around her waist and pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder.

“Always has,” Steve said, “I wish some of that would rub off on me. I’m awful.”

Sam and Natasha both laugh, because it’s completely true. Steve has absolutely no rhythm, but with the right partner he can always pretend like he knows what he’s doing.

Natasha covers his hand on her stomach with her own. Her hands are small, but they are strong and hard when Steve would, once upon a time, have expected them to be soft. He shifts his hand, so that he’s covering hers, and so now he can stroke her knuckles with his thumb. Her wrists are thin enough he can wrap his big hands around them, and he can feel the raised skin of old scars under his thumb from where she’s fought with punches.

“Practice makes perfect,” Natasha murmurs, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It’s the phrase they’ve taken to using to get one another in bed. Bruce is hovering just beside them, watching the dancing and debating to sit down or not.

Sam snorts, and covers it by lifting his bottle to his lips.

“Bruce, come sit down,” Natasha asks, gesturing to the spot beside Sam. Steve’s head is full of Sam’s smile and Natasha’s skin and how he wants to get his mouth on both, but he tries to focus on conversation and being a good host.

“Enjoying yourself?” Steve asks. Natasha’s hair is close to getting in his mouth, but he won’t let either of their hands go to push it away.

Bruce nods, gesturing to the cabin, “It’s beautiful out here. Thanks for letting us all come drink your booze.”

Sam waved his bottle in disagreement, “It’s only beautiful out here because I make an _effort_. My three amigos know nothing about interior design or what makes a house a home.”

Steve can’t help but squeeze both of their hands at ‘home’. Because it is. This is their home. One that they’ve made together and that they’re happy in.

Bruce nods accordingly.

“I strung the lights,” Sam explains, proudly.

“Which you’ve mentioned several times already,” Natasha points out.

“But they’re beautiful. Look at the ambiance,” Sam counters.

Bruce laughs, “They are pretty good for setting the mood,” it’s not a pointed look, but it’s not shy either, when he glances between the three of them and their lack of personal space with one another, “so… forgive me if this is prying, but this… commune—setup, lifestyle, whatever. It’s working for you?”

“Commune?” Steve repeats with a laugh.

“Stark’s words?” Natasha asks.

Bruce flinches and nods, “Yeah.”

“It’s great,” Sam beamed, “if you’d told me just a few years ago that I’d be like this,” and he holds up his and Steve’s joined hands, “with Captain America, I would have demanded to know how you found my teenage diary. The beautiful woman here and Footloose over there are just cherries on top.”

Bruce sips at his drink, “I’m happy to hear that. It’s different, and to be honest I don’t think I could handle it, but you all seem to be doing well.”

“You haven’t been around when they leave the toilet seat up,” Natasha tells him, and they all laugh.

Tony finally cuts into Pepper and Bucky dancing circles around the dance floor. They’re both breathless, but Bucky bows while Pepper pretends to curtsy in her shorts, and because he’s a brat he pulls her in one last time to kiss her on the cheek before spinning her over to Tony.

Bucky is laughing, and light on his feet, as he crosses the floor to stand in front of them. He takes Sam’s beer and finishes it. He’s sweating slightly, and has his hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Rascal,” Sam says with no heat to it.

“Anyone up for a round? Practice makes perfect,” Bucky winks conspiratorially. Steve smothers his laugh in Natasha’s shoulder, taking the moment to kiss her bare skin again.

“I think you need to rescue Foster,” Natasha instructs him, “she’s lost Tony for science jargon and I’ve got to intercept Clint and Thor before they do something stupid. Besides, she’s nervous in groups and could probably do with a good dance.”

Bucky pouts, “You people always let me down.”

Sam knocks his foot against Bucky’s shin affectionately, “We’ll make it up to you later. Need a few more lessons before I bust a move.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. He leans down to push Sam’s empty bottle back into his hand, and to seal the promise with a kiss. For a brief moment they’re aligned again, in a chain connected by the way their fingers all fit with each other’s. If Steve and Bucky were mismatched puzzle pieces on their own, they’ve found the parts that make them complete now.

“I’m holding you to that,” Bucky says, and then he’s off to coax Jane to come dance with him. He’ll do it, because Bucky is very charming when he wants to be.

Natasha turned to look at Steve, “I’ve gotta run. I wasn’t kidding about Clint—I lost visual on him about ten minutes ago. We’re all probably in danger.”

Steve lifted his chin so that she could kiss him, and let her stand up, “If he’s already broken something tell him that I’m going to make him mop our floors for a week.”

“Again?” Natasha asked, and Bruce snorted.

“What about the bathrooms?” Sam offered, “that should keep him away for a little while.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, and headed off the deck and into the trees around the cabin. Steve notes arbitrarily that she’s going in the direction of their bedroom window, but pins it down as just a coincidence.

“We try to come up with chores for Clint to do so he’ll stop breaking into our house and eating all our food,” Steve explained to Bruce.

“He does that?” Bruce is shocked.

Sam shrugs, “It’s something he and Tasha do, and for the most part, whatever. We’ve almost got him trained to give notice, but sometimes he breaks stuff and hides it or won’t mention it until we find it. And then other times he forgets to tell us and he walks in on things he shouldn’t be walking in on.”

“You’d think he’d be interested,” Steve nods, “especially after the third time.”

“He’s not? Are you?” Bruce asks. He’s interested in the way their relationship works, just because it’s different. Steve can’t blame him. It’s not something he ever really imagined himself being a part of.

Both Sam and Steve shrug. They’re happy with the number they have, and it works very well. It doesn’t mean they’ve stopped looking at other people, but they feel less inclined to open up their relationship to newcomers.

Sam yawns suddenly, startling the three of them, “Sorry guys,” he grins sheepishly, “I don’t think I can compete with all you superheroes. I gotta crash.”

Steve gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, “You are a superhero,” he murmurs.

Sam gets to his feet and gives Steve a wink, “I like hearing you say that. You gonna be up much longer?”

Bruce pretends to be fascinated with the lights above their heads.

Steve nods at Bucky, who is slowly teaching Jane the basic steps of swing dancing, “I’ll wait for him to finish up. Won’t be too long.”

Sam winks again, “Good. We’ll wait up.”

He lets go of Steve’s hand and heads inside. Just like that the moment is gone, and Steve is left sitting on the bench with Bruce. His hands feel empty and he rubs his palms on his thighs to get rid of the feeling.

“It’s a very nice place,” Bruce says conversationally, “lots of privacy and quiet, I’d think?”

“It is,” Steve agrees, “it’s really nice. But we don’t get a chance to get out here all that often.”

He leans back, and comes to a realization, “Listen, Bruce, if living with Stark ever gets too much… you’re welcome to come out here. Like I said, we’re not here as often as we’d like. The lake isn’t much during the winter, but the place is heated.”

Bruce’s face is flushed, and not just from alcohol, “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“If you want to,” Steve repeats. Jane Foster laughs loudly, Bucky’s dipped her and she’s surprised him by picking up the steps much faster than Pepper had. They’re picking up speed and both of them are laughing as they move around. Pepper and Tony are slow-dancing in a corner, and Clint and Thor have returned from the woods to raid the bar again.

It’s dark now, almost too difficult to see the lake or anything around them. The white lights illuminate the deck and Steve can’t think of a more perfect moment.

This is his home. There’s laughter, he has friends and he has the people he loves more than anything to share it with.

It’s the 21st century and Steve has more than enough hands to hold.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Cuddling Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this I was planning completely unrelated one-shots, but unless explicitly stated there's no reason you can't assume all of these chapters are one long story.  
> If that's how you'd like to read then be warned that it's not going to be in any chronological order. 
> 
> Unbeta'd again, any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!

Living in Stark Tower—the Avengers Tower, now—was a lot like living in a frat house. Since Shield had exploded, both figuratively and literally, several of its inhabitants were unemployed. The rest of them were basically freeloading strays (Tony’s words) that Captain America kept bringing home. Steve insisted that Bucky and Sam were _not_ strays and, besides, everyone loved having them around. With a lot of unexpected free time, and odd hours between the occasional freelance job, there wasn’t a lot of quiet time.

Steve liked taking advantage of such moments of relative peace, and had found himself a couch in the common area beside the window, with a nice big patch of sunlight. Clint and Bruce were the only two people in the room, and Bruce was almost asleep in his chair and Clint was elbow deep in a box of fruitloops. They were watching something on Netflix, and while Bruce had only sat down about an hour ago, Clint had been watching since the night before. Steve wasn’t sure if he’d moved since then.

Books nowadays were so varied it was impossible to choose just one. Neither Steve or Bucky were big readers when they were younger. Just enough to read the paper when they could afford one. Books were a luxury Steve had never been privy to, and now there were free books or cheap books or online books wherever he turned. He was brushing up on his history, and this one detailed the rise of modern economics. Not necessarily exciting, but Steve wanted to know what he was talking about before he started getting involved in how to change things. While out looking for Bucky he’d seen a lot of sides to America he couldn’t believe still existed and it was time somebody starting making life better for those people.

Steve was several chapters in, Bruce was assuredly asleep now, and Netflix had asked Clint at least twice if he was okay because he’d been streaming content for at least 48 hours now (to which Clint had grumbled about being judged and continued eating out of a bag of marshmallows) and the sunlight Steve was laying in was warm and making him feel sleepy.

It was so rare for the common area to be calm and quiet like this that Steve didn’t want to get up and head to his room, not yet at least, so he decided to try and read until he fell asleep. He’d never actually done that before.

He’d read the same line at least four times when Tony stumbled in. He was covered in grease stains and smelled like electricity, and limped over to the open bar to pour himself some scotch before flopping onto the couch beside Clint. He was uncharacteristically quiet, taking in the comfortable quiet of the room, and offered Clint a shot. Clint declined, and instead grabbed the jug of chocolate milk sitting between his feet to cheers with Tony.

Steve went back to his book, smiling to himself. Clint growled at the tv when Netflix suggested he go outside for a little while, and Tony laughed out loud. That woke Bruce up, but otherwise the next hour or so went by completely uneventfully.

Steve was almost asleep, he could barely keep his eyes open, when he heard Tony say ‘hey there sleeping beauty’. That had to mean Bucky was finally up from his post-workout nap. He was insufferably cranky right after waking up, so Steve didn’t bother saying hello yet.

He debated setting his book down and just seeing how fast he could fall asleep (was that falling asleep reading?) when Steve felt the couch by his feet dip. He was about to lift his book to see what was happening when Bucky shoved Steve’s book out of the way, eyes practically closed and drool still on his face, and then face-planted into Steve’s chest, ass in the air.

Tony, Clint and Bruce had all turned so they were looking over their seats at the two of them.

“Buck?” Steve asked carefully, in case Bucky was sleepwalking.

Bucky groaned a response, and stretched out to drape himself over Steve. His feet were sticking out over the armrest, and one of his hands was hanging off the couch and touching the floor while the other was crammed into the space between Steve’s back and the couch. Bucky nuzzled his face Steve’s chest and let out a content sigh, and moments later was fast asleep.

Steve couldn’t rule out the possibility that Bucky was sleepwalking, but had a feeling he’d moved of his own free will. He didn’t know if he should push Bucky off or not. The other three were still staring—something about the way Steve and Bucky were comfortable around each other seemed to really baffle Tony and Clint. They didn’t seem to understand that two guys who grew up as each others’ shadow, and then served together, lost each other, and then found one another almost a century later stopped giving a damn about personal space.

That, and, they were sleeping together. In a sexual manner. So far they’d agreed to keep it quiet to everyone else, and so Steve wasn’t sure if he should pretend to be bothered or not. It would be far easier to let Bucky nap like this when they were in bed, but they wouldn’t have the sunlight and the comfortable silence that had draped over them like a warm blanket. Steve decided he wouldn’t be bothered and idly ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair as he went back to reading.

Tony and Clint continued sneaking looks in their direction, but that made things feel more like normal so Steve didn’t really mind at all. Bucky stayed asleep except to grumble angry, incoherent things and push his head back into Steve’s hand when Steve stopped petting his hair.

 

Sam, Natasha and Pepper returned a few hours later. Steve hadn’t been able to sleep yet, even with Bucky’s comfortable warmth and weight on top of him. He was idly reading and also glancing over at the show the other men were watching. They’d switched to another account after Netflix sent a personalized inquiry if Clint was in need of medical aid or if he was dead.

“This is cozy,” Natasha commented, smiling. She was looking out at the room, and Steve made a point not to look at Bucky and smile. It was subtle, but she was talking about the two of them.

Bucky and Steve were keeping quiet about their relationship because they were also in a relationship with Natasha.

“Is it Cap cuddle time over here? I am exhausted,” Sam asked, coming towards them to make a show of pretending to jump on top of Bucky and Steve.

They were also dating Sam.

It’s kind of complicated, but it works. Collectively they’ve all agreed to keep it between themselves, because it’s hard to explain, because they don’t know quite exactly what they all have and where it’s going, and because it’s really nobody’s business but their own.

Bucky made pathetic gesture that was meant to wave Sam away, and groaned something that was completely muffled in Steve’s shirt.

Tony met Pepper halfway to the couch to greet her with a kiss and they launched into chat about what they’d both been up to, completely talking over one another and having at least three different conversations and still grinning.

Clint not-so-subtly turned up the volume on the tv by a few points.

Sam surprised them by giving Steve a wink and then playfully giving Bucky a tug as he flopped on top of them. Bucky squawked, completely undignified, and had to brace a foot on the floor to keep from falling off of the couch entirely and Sam threw an arm over both of them and pretended to go to sleep.

“Plenty of room!” he declared. They were in front of everyone, and Steve was sure Sam was just messing around, but it was cutting it close to being really obvious. He couldn’t bring himself to get up and leave though.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, breathless with two men resting on top of him, “what are you—“

Bucky chose this moment to give Sam a petty pinch in the side. Sam flinched, and retaliated, ticking Bucky’s ribs. Bucky used his foot on the floor to fling himself onto Sam and suddenly there was a full-on tickle fight happening on top of Steve.

“You are grown men!” Steve shouted, trying to get a hand on either of them, and ended up getting an elbow in his stomach. He managed to get a hand under Sam’s chest, unbalancing him, as Sam shoved Bucky off the couch. With a fistful of Sam’s shirt and his legs still tangled with Steve’s, Bucky dragged both Steve and Sam off the couch and into an undignified pile on the floor.

“Whoa, settle down children!” Tony shouted.

Sam lunged at Bucky, knocking him off of Steve, and tried to drop down to steal Bucky’s original spot on Steve.

“I was napping!” Bucky shouted, more laughter then rage, and pushed Sam with his metal arm. Steve shoved both of them off of himself and tried to climb back onto the couch. He was tackled by them both.

“You stay down! We’re fighting over you!” Sam had Steve by an ankle and Bucky sat on his chest.

“I was here first,” Bucky snapped, putting a foot on Sam’s chest and pushing.

“Is there a reason you all can’t shut up?” Clint shouted, turning up the volume more.

“Busy!” Steve grunted, and grabbed Bucky by the thigh as he rolled, effectively pinning him under Steve’s weight. Bucky laughed and tried to roll and push back, but couldn’t get out from under Steve’s arms. Sam shoved his shoulder into Steve’s armpit, putting all his weight into moving Steve’s arm off of Bucky. Bucky squirmed under Steve’s hands pinning him down and managed to get his feet onto Steve’s stomach and push.

“Steve c’mon! Not fair!” Bucky groaned.

“Gotta say uncle,” Steve told him.

“Holy shit you are a brick wall,” Sam grunted, failing to get a grip with his shoes on the floor.

“Children!” Tony called, “please, the grown-ups are trying to watch—what are we watching?”

“Breaking Bad” Clint monotoned.

Steve decided to loosen his grip on Bucky, and Bucky took the opportunity to kick Steve back against the couch. Sam’s momentum flung him on top of Bucky and he let out a surprised laugh. They seemed to forget all about fighting over Steve in favor of ticking each other and wrestling one another to the floor.

With the two of them distracted, Steve retrieved his book and carefully backed away. He stretched, feeling the stiffness of laying in one spot for so long (and having Bucky sleeping on top of him for a while) and realized he really was tired.

“Kids got you tired out?” Natasha teased as Steve made his way over to stand beside her.

He rolled his eyes, smiling fondly, “Was thinking about going to bed earlier. This is probably a good sign.”

He wasn’t sure how to make it clear that she was totally invited to join him with everyone else still in earshot—the four of them together was still so fresh Steve wasn’t sure if it was going to keep happening or not—so he did his best for a pointed look and to catch her eye.

“Sleep well,” she said, shifting deliberately so that her body language was closed off.

Steve nodded and didn’t say much more. No one seemed to notice him leaving the common area and heading off down the hall that he, Sam, Bucky and Natasha shared. Well, sometimes she was there but the tower had various floors with different rooms so it was hard to tell if Natasha actually slept in that room or not, but for the most part she did keep a few outfits in the closet. Since they were the last to move in they all ended up with rooms in the same hall. It worked out favorably, in their case, but Steve wasn’t sure if it was only just situational closeness that was bringing them all together and if everything would end once they weren’t all forced together anymore.

He hoped not. And he’d always have Bucky, no matter what. Steve brushed his teeth in the shared bathroom and briefly debated sleeping in Bucky’s room instead. He decided against it. They all were still trying to be very conscious about giving Bucky his own safe spaces. Steve left his door ajar though, an open invitation, and hoped someone would join him. The sex was great but his favorite part was falling asleep and waking up in a bed that wasn’t empty.

He left his book on his bedside table and stripped down to his underwear. It was warm enough to sleep in just those, and Steve was feeling really lazy in the moment.

He had just settled into a comfortable position when his door creaked open and Bucky stuck his head inside.

“Are you asleep?” Bucky whispered.

Steve shook his head, “Yes, I’m sleep talking.”

“Punk,” Bucky muttered, stepping inside. He glanced between himself and the door, “is this okay?”

Steve pulled back the blankets and Bucky lost his shirt on his dash to the bed. He was ready to get into their usual sleeping position—Steve’s back to Bucky’s chest, but Bucky slid right on top of him in a repeat of how they’d been positioned on the couch.

“Been thinking about this all day,” Bucky grinned.

He leaned down to kiss Steve, slow and lazy just like the evening atmosphere. Steve wasn’t a big fan of Bucky’s stubble, and the way it itched and got in the way, but the marks would fade by morning. He loved kissing Bucky more than he didn’t like the stubble, and brought a hand up to get his fingers into Bucky’s hair to pull him closer. He could kiss for hours, and was completely prepared too. They kissed like they had all the time in the world, like they were young again and as if they were starved for touch. Just as Bucky was starting to rock his hips down against Steve’s, Steve had to pull away to yawn.

They both froze. Steve flushed embarrassedly.

“If I’m not doing if for you, you could just say so,” Bucky said.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, “it’s not you, I’m just more tired than I thought. In the morning?”

Bucky dropped off to Steve’s side, now closer to the wall, and sighed into Steve’s neck, “You sure I can’t wake you up?”

Steve rolled onto his side and let Bucky throw his arm over Steve’s chest. Bucky liked nuzzling into the back of Steve’s neck, and he was already peppering kisses on Steve’s skin.

“I’m sure. Just give me a few hours.”

Bucky groaned, “In a few hours I’ll be sleepy!”

“This is what you get for sleeping all day,” Steve grinned.

Bucky huffed into Steve’s shoulder and pulled himself closer. His hairy legs were pressed up against the back of Steve’s, and his broad chest was warm and solid. This was Steve’s favorite position to fall asleep in, and had been since they were kids.

Steve woke up to his door creaking open, and this time it was Natasha. She glanced between Steve and Bucky like she was surprised to see them together.

“If you’re busy…” she trailed off.

“It’s nap time,” Bucky told her, “come cuddle.”

“Good,” she said, “shopping is exhausting.”

She still looked hesitant, but she climbed into bed and let Steve wrap his arms around her. Natasha was the newest to their multi-person shenanigans, and was generally someone afraid of making emotional attachments. Sex was one thing, but this quiet intimacy still made her nervous.

The three of them fit on the bed quite well, and it was warm enough between them and the weather that they didn’t have to bother making sure the blankets were evenly distributed.

The last time Steve woke up was a few hours later, when Sam climbed over all of them to fit into the space behind Bucky.

“Sorry, I finally got sick of that show,” he said, “didn’t realize the time.”

“Spoon up and shut up,” Bucky growled, pulling Sam’s arm over his hip, “you’re ruining all my naps.”

Natasha felt tense in Steve’s arms and he pulled back, “Do you want to go?” he asked quietly. There was no way Bucky and Sam couldn’t hear them, but he pretended to give her privacy at least.

She turned over, and licked her lips, “Actually… can I move to the middle? I’m almost on the edge,” she admitted.

Steve’s arms were around her, and he could feel how close she was to the edge of the bed. She was in no danger of falling off, but Steve decided not to call her on it.

“Of course,” he replied. She climbed over him while he moved to bracket her in between himself and Bucky. She assumed the same position he’d had, and Bucky happily pulled her close to him.

Her eyes were bright in the dark, and Bucky started snoring softly right away.

“Okay?” Steve whispered.

Natasha nodded, “I think this works for me.”

Steve wasn’t sure if she was talking about the position shift, or if she was talking about the four of them, but he couldn’t help but smile. The two of them had to coordinate a bit further to fit comfortably, and ended up with her head on his shoulder and Bucky’s arm wrapped possessively around her waist. All of Sam’s limbs were wrapped up on Bucky in some way. It was a tight squeeze, but it felt good.

Steve could just make out the outlines of all of their faces in the dark, and his heart felt tight for a moment at the thought of waking up to the three of them every day. It was still too new, the four of them, to know if it would last. Steve found himself wishing it would. His bed had never been so happily full before, and he never wanted that to end.

 

He woke up to Natasha leaning over him and Bucky straddling his waist.

“Barnes said you made a promise about morning,” Natasha said.

“We were hoping it extended to the rest of us,” Sam was sitting up just behind her.

“One condition,” Steve said. Bucky was starting to kiss a line up his stomach, “you all have to stay.”

“Post-coital cuddles? I can do that,” Sam laughed.

Natasha seemed to be the only one to understand the gravitas of Steve’s request. She smiled, and leaned down to kiss him, “One day at a time. But I think we will.”


	3. Watching a Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was late! I was out all day, and then wasn't able to finish in time. This chapter is also in celebration about the news of Pacific Rim 2, and obviously influenced.
> 
> Unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own.

“Now everyone’s been catching you two up with the classics,” Sam tells them one night, “but we also have to make sure you see the _modern_ classics.”

He’s trying to slip the DVD into the machine without Natasha seeing but he’s not as subtle as he thinks.

“Sam that’s not a classic,” she says.

Sam puts the disc in and looks at her like he’s mortally offended, “Are you kidding? Pacific Rim is the _greatest_ movie of last year!”

Steve and Bucky’s heads bounce between the two of them like they’re watching a ping-pong match.

“It flopped! It’s got a terrible plot and the acting is awful,” Natasha retorts.

Sam pounds a hand over his heart, “it’s about humanity!”

“It’s cheesy and silly. For kids,” she replies.

“But you watched it,” Sam grins, “you have seen it.”

“I regret it. The whole thing with the…” she glances at Steve and Bucky, who are quietly waiting for a decision to be made, “thing. The reveal on the monster. And how they killed it. That was so—”

“Awesome!” Sam shouts, “and not every movie we watch has to be so depressing. Ugh, we see enough shit in our lives. Why can’t we enjoy anything fun!”

“Well I can’t say no to Idris Elba,” Natasha shrugs.

Sam grins and nods, “ _No one_ can say no to Idris.”

Steve and Bucky glance between each other, and Bucky silently agrees to speak up, “Um, who is Idris Elba?”

Sam and Natasha sigh loudly.

“We have failed you,” Sam admits.

“We have to watch the movie now,” Natasha concedes.

“What is… Pacific Rim? Is that right? What is it about?” Steve asks.

Sam’s grin could light up the night, “Robots. And monsters. Fighting each other.”

 

All four of them cram onto the couch. Steve and Bucky are in the middle, with Sam on Steve’s side and Natasha almost in Bucky’s lap. They pass a bowl of popcorn and a bag of chips between them. It’s their typical movie night position.

Sam and Natasha are used to most tropes in modern cinema, and don’t think much of the opening sequence that involves a brother dying. But as the narration describes drift compatibility, they notice Steve and Bucky glancing at each other and smiling, obviously thinking about each other. They all notice when Steve goes unnaturally still. Bucky grips Steve’s hand with his metal one, squeezing just enough to remind Steve that he’s here. Sam feels terrible for picking the movie, and doesn’t want to look to see if Natasha is giving him a ‘told you so’ look. He gets a hand on the back of Steve’s neck and squeezes gently. Steve stays quiet, but doesn’t ask them to turn it off.

 

The rest of the movie goes over very well.

“Is that Idris?” the two of them ask at every person they see.

“Sshh,” Sam whispers, “you’ll know him when you see him.”

They do, and they both hum appreciatively. Bucky and Steve are very entranced and excited by the fights, and Steve is enamored by the CGI and creature designs. They both tear up at the end.

 

Listening to the credits, Sam turns to face everyone else on the couch, “So?”

Natasha shrugs, “Better than I remembered. Still too cheesy.”

Steve grimaces, “It… well, it was kind of silly at points. But, I think I really liked it.”

“It was awesome!” Bucky exclaims, “do you think we can convince Stark to build the robots? Does anyone want to spar?”

Sam laughs at him, “Got some energy to burn off? I feel that—this movie just gets me so pumped. I wanna fight aliens! How cool would that be?”

“Been there,” both Steve and Natasha reply, and then laugh at themselves.

Natasha clears her throat, “Better questions—Idris Elba?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Steve sighs dramatically, and sinks into the couch.

“What else is he in? Is he naked in anything? Because we need to watch it,” Bucky translates.

Sam and Natasha both nod approvingly, “You’re allowed to stay,” Sam says.

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles. Bucky gets to his feet, holding Natasha in his arms as if she weighs nothing. She kicks her feet in protest, but doesn’t make any real effort to move.

“Well, if we’re all a little energized from the movie, I say we go hit the gym or do something really fun,” he says, and nods towards their bedroom. They’ve just bought a new customized bed and it’s been very difficult getting out of it, and easier and easier to find their ways back in. The movie was their attempt to get away for a few hours at least.

Steve obediently strips off his shirt as he stands up.

“Well it’s obvious what you want,” Sam laughs, and stands up to follow the other three into the bedroom, “but have any of you thought about who you’d be drift compatible with?”

Bucky sets Natasha down on the bed, and climbs on after her.

“Sam,” Natasha groans, “don’t kill the mood.”

Steve is stripping out of his pants, and leans over to high-five Bucky, “We would be, for sure.” Bucky grins, almost sheepishly. They’re embarrassingly cute.

Sam starts taking off his clothes as well, “Steve and I, obviously. And I think I can get along with you two.”

Natasha sighs, “Yeah, I think we would. Barnes and I for sure but…” she sits up to look at Steve, “I don’t think we would be.”

Steve’s face falls and he frowns like he’s offended, “Why not?”

Natasha shrugs, “We’ve got different mindsets. It’s just a movie.”

Steve sits on the edge of the bed. His expression looks hurt. Bucky moves back so Natasha can sit up and shifts so that she’s sitting beside Steve.

“I just… I meant we think really differently. It doesn’t mean anything beyond that.”

Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, it’s fine. It’s nothing.”

Natasha grabs his shoulder to keep him from moving, “No, I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” she leans in to kiss him on the cheek, “we make a really good team. Drift compatible or not.”

Steve smiles, but it’s still half-hearted.

Sam jumps onto the bed, tackles Bucky into the mattress to kiss him.

Natasha frowns, and puts her fingers under Steve’s chin to turn him to face her, “We’re different, Steve, that’s just who we are. It doesn’t mean I think less of you—or that I care about James and Sam more than you.”

Steve sighs and leans into her touch, “You sure?”

“You’re so dense sometimes I can’t believe you actually intended,” she makes a wide gesture to include Sam and Bucky making out behind them, and the two of them sitting together on the edge of the bed, “all of this. But believe me when I say—I wouldn’t bother with all three of you morons if I wasn’t interested in all of you.”

Steve does smile now.

“Besides, Cap, you’ve got dibs. We worked together first.”

“I resent that!” Bucky shouts. He’s shoved Sam off of himself  and rolls so that he can drape himself over Steve’s back.

“Well I mean you really don’t know who you’re drift compatible with until you test it,” Sam offers.

“There’s a way to test it?” Natasha asks. She sounds like she wants to be shocked, but also realizes the ability of the modern world to come up with a way to do anything.

“Sure, we’ll go hit the gym and spar a bit. Just like the movie,” Sam reaches out to tug on Natasha’s shirt, “now come on. Stop moping around you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the ending is based around the fact that Steve and Natasha still see themselves as polar opposites, when in reality, if you look at how they work together in the Avengers and in TWS it's probably likely that they'd be drift compatible!!


	4. On a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates are always a little rough. Try a first date with four people. Sam just can't catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone, I'm late again! I was woken up at an ungodly hour for a surprise kayaking morning-trip, followed by cheering on World Cup, and then a really cool Jazz Festival in Montreal. Needless to say, I had no time to write! Unfortunately this piece was rushed, and in the future I may come back and edit/do it justice.
> 
> Unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own.
> 
> *Note- there is some strong language in this piece, which I would say puts it at a T rating.

Sam wouldn’t be the first to say he knew what he was doing on a date—it had been a long time. But he remembered the basics, and really it was all common sense. Ask person out, agree on time and place and modes of transport, have an excellent dinner, usually an activity afterwards, and then end on a high note with the hopes of a repeat. In theory, it wasn’t that hard. Sam was fairly good at enjoyable conversation, and when the two people were interested in one another, it was easy to find a topic that suited both parties just fine.

That was with two people. Sam was dealing with four people. Very different people.

Their biggest challenge was deciding on where to go—Natasha wanted to stay home, Bucky wanted a bar, Steve wanted a picnic and Sam wanted something a little fancy.

Officially this was their first date—they’d done the picnic and the beers and a few meals at Sam’s house now. Tonight was the first time they were all going out together with the intention of it being a night out for the four of them. In the romantic sense. So Sam finally won out—plus he made the reservation and didn’t tell anyone else about it until it was too late to cancel.

Steve was an impressive specimen, with his nice dress shirt and pressed slacks. His shoulder to waist ratio was excellently showcased, and at least half the restaurant had turned to check him out. Sam could barely keep his eyes off of him. He was hiding his face behind a pair of large glasses, which really shouldn’t have made a difference, but so far no one had even suspected that Steve was _the_ Steve Rogers.

Steve was rocking a classic, somewhat clean look, whereas Bucky looked like a Bond villain. A classy one, mind you, but with his long hair tied back to show his face, his piercing eyes, and the long sleeves plus gloves combo he was using to hide his metal arm; he looked sexy and dangerous. The other half of the restaurant had been looking at him.

Natasha was growing her hair out, so it almost reached her shoulders now. She was in a blue dress that ended just above her knees, with modest high heels. The dress wasn’t anything fancy— in fact, Sam had a feeling she’d chosen it because it looked nice but it made her look like nothing exemplary. She’s gone subtler on her makeup, just enough to pop her eyes and had added a beauty mark to her cheek that Sam wanted to wipe off. Sam thought she was still gorgeous and had needed to force himself to remember he had to look at the menu to order something at least three times in the last few minutes because she was so captivating. No one in the restaurant had spared her a second glance, and that just proved she was doing her job right.

It was important that no one recognized them—because of the paparazzi swarm that could descend, and the following media frenzy, but also because they just wanted to have a quiet night out. But it also meant that while they were on a date; they couldn’t actually act like all of them were on a date.

All of the boys had—she was unbelievably beautiful and was gracing them with her presence.

Bucky and Steve were already playing with the cuffs on their sleeves, and itching at the buttons on their shirts that were done up to their necks. They were like children forced into their nice clothes for random occasions, desperate for the signal that they could get out of them. Sam always forgot that they’d grown up poor and fine dining was something neither of them knew very well.

Sam didn’t know it much either, but he wanted to treat his lovers—could he call them that yet? What _would_ he call them, if this whole thing worked out?—to something nice. To show that he appreciated them.

“This seems… nice,” Steve said, gripping his thighs to keep his hands still.

“What is this?” Bucky growled into the menu. He was sitting directly across from Sam. Bucky was still nervous in crowd settings—probably always would be—and couldn’t have his back exposed. That was why they’d had to change tables twice until he felt he had a good vantage point and his back against the wall.

“It’s food,” Sam joked.

“Overpriced,” Bucky muttered.

Natasha, sitting on Sam’s left, sighed, “It’s not a cheap bar, get used to it Barnes.”

Bucky started complaining under his breath, and Steve kicked him under the table and told him to be quiet. Sam tried to pretend like he hadn’t noticed. In Bucky’s defense, the food was a little overpriced for what was being offered. Maybe he should have picked somewhere else.

He’d preordered bottle service, which started with a nice glass of rose wine. It was about the same colour as Steve’s full-body flush and Sam debated if it was proper date etiquette to point that out. He decided against it. They were trying to be classy.

Natasha was probably the only one of them who was actually comfortable in the atmosphere, but Sam knew she was happiest in a pair of sweatpants and a big shirt, curled up in an armchair and sipping tea from her old, cracked mug. If that was where she’d rather be, she was nice enough not to broadcast it.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Steve said, gesturing to his wine, “you know it doesn’t affect me, right?”

“This is water,” Bucky agreed.

“It’s not… for getting drunk,” Sam shrugged, “it’s nice?”

“It’s lovely Sam, thank you,” Natasha said, and eyed Bucky and Steve with a look that could warp steel.

“Very nice,” they both agreed.

Sam sipped his wine—it was a nice wine, but wine was not at all his preference—and wondered if he’d made a huge mistake.

 

They all managed to decide on something to eat, after several long attempts of staring at the menu in favor of trying to start conversation. Without the distraction, they spent a few minutes in silence, glancing everywhere but at one another.

“So…” Sam finally started, because this was his date idea, he should keep it from getting any worse, “uh, what’s new?”

He was met with quiet stares. Of the three of them, Sam was the only one still technically employed. He talked with Steve daily on their morning runs. Lately Bucky was joining them when he felt up to it. Natasha dropped in and out of their lives, but she was bouncing between their homes, and Clint’s. There wasn’t much going on in their lives that Sam didn’t already know about.

“Clint was thinking about getting a dog,” Natasha added.

Steve nodded politely. Bucky leaned forwards, “Really?” He had a soft spot for animals.

“Well, he’s got the time and he doesn’t plan on travelling much now that he’s ‘forcefully retired’, as he put it,” she continued. Clint didn’t have a job because the four of them—well, three, but Bucky was there too—destroyed SHIELD.

“Is he going to stop at just one?” Steve asked.

Natasha smiled, and shrugged, “Have you seen—”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Oh, trust me, I have seen his collection of dog pictures.” They both laughed. Bucky and Sam glanced at each other, and then at the other two. They didn’t know Clint, or the backstory as to why this was so funny.

Natasha shook her head, “He—Clint loves dogs. He knows how to ask ‘can I pet your dog’ in at least thirteen languages, and he takes a picture of himself with every dog he meets.”

Sam nodded, and took a sip of his wine.

He’s not sure why this is so difficult all of a sudden. The four of them talk well enough, or enjoy comfortable silences, when they’re not in public like this. They’ve been out to grab a late-night beer together. They’ve all had sex with each other. It’s not like there’s any issues where they don’t get along. Sam’s pretty sure they’re all in the same boat—that this thing is moving from casual swinging and occasional group sex to something possibly more serious.

Or that’s just him. Sam’s the only one who thinks—or wants—this easy stress-relief fun the four of them have going to turn into an actual relationship. With four people. While not unheard of, it’s ridiculous and just not what people do. It’s not even what Sam every thought he would do until a little research on the internet. And now he’s going and wrecked everything because he got too attached too fast.

It’s a good thing he’s the only one who can get drunk off of a bottle of wine. It means no one is going to compete with him to finish it.

 

Dinner was delicious. In Sam’s opinion it wasn’t any better than a burger and some french fries, or anything home cooked, but it looked fancy and tasted very good. Bucky and Steve both found their steaks to be too spicy (which meant it wasn’t at all—the two of them were just overly sensitive to anything that wasn’t boiled or lightly salted, and peppercorns were almost too advanced for them) but suffered through. Natasha seemed to enjoy her food, though she kept correcting Steve and Bucky’s table manners. Sam found himself very proud that at least he knew how to act like a civilized human being, and ordered another two bottles of wine before they’d even made it to dessert.

Steve discreetly pulled off his glasses to wipe at his eyes, and Sam laughed at him as he put them back on.

“I—I just can’t believe that works. They—they don’t even hide anything!”

Steve glanced around nervously, and shrugged, “Well, it’s better than a hat and trench coat, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t broken them yet,” Bucky comments.

“I’m shocked they’re still in one piece,” Natasha adds.

It’s a free-flowing conversation and Sam grins because he’s so proud. His head also feels very heavy and he wants to have a quick nap. He stopped himself, realizing it might be the two bottles of wine he’s already had, and determined that it could only go downhill from there. He opened the third.

 

Dessert had too many syllables and too many fruits to actually be bad for you, and therefore it wasn’t dessert. Bucky ate Sam’s and the half Natasha didn’t want. Steve guarded his jealously.

“So what’re our plans?” Sam focused very hard on not letting his words slur as he whispers, “when do we all pretend this never happened and get naked?”

“Sam,” Steve hisses, glancing around them nervously. No one has heard, but that’s probably luck. Sam realized he wasn’t actually whispering.

“Are you drunk?” Bucky demands.

“He drank three bottles of wine,” Natasha replied, “of course he’s drunk.”

“M’sorry,” Sam gestured at the table, “this was a bad idea. You can vote me out if you want.”

Steve leans back in his chair, sighing loudly. He looks disappointed and Sam really wants to hit blackout drunk right now, so he doesn’t have to remember the talk Steve is going to give him.

“Just—we can’t do this. Not here,” Steve says. He flagged down their server for the bill.

“Separate or one big bill?” the server asks.

“One,” Steve and Sam reply just as Natasha and Bucky say “Separate.”

They all glare at each other, telling each other to stand down.

“One,” Steve says again, firmly, “do I pay at the front?”

“No,” Sam tells him decisively, “this is _my_ idea!” His timing is a few moments too late, as Steve is already walking up to the front of the restaurant to pay.

Natasha’s hand settles on Sam’s arm, “Next one’s on you. Besides, I don’t think we can trust you to leave a nice tip.”

“I always tip,” Sam informed her, “I’m stupid but I always tip.”

“James,” Natasha doesn’t acknowledge Sam’s response at all, “help me get him out of here without a scene?”

Bucky helps get Sam on his feet, but Sam is a grown man thank you very much. He may be stupid, emotion-hurling drunk, but he can and will walk out of the worst date he’s ever lived through on his own two feet. He’s fine until he runs into the door, and Steve has to hold it for him while Natasha discreetly links arms with him to guide him out.

Sam gets into Natasha’s car without incident. He’s feeling more self-loathing than off-the-wall with energy. Natasha and Steve talk quickly about where they’re going, and then Sam falls asleep as soon as Natasha pulls out of the parking stall.

 

He wakes up to Bucky and Steve pulling him out of the car, and adrenaline has him sober and on his feet in an instant. They’re outside Sam’s house and need to know where his keys are. Right. So that Sam can get inside, lock the door behind him, and then never show his face around these parts again.

Steve takes Sam’s keys from him and unlocks his door. Natasha guides Sam in and Bucky follows closely behind.

“Can you get your shoes off?” Natasha asks him.

Sam rolls his eyes, “I’m not _that_ bad, okay. I’m an adult. If I pass out in my shoes in my front hallway that’s my business.”

“I’m going to grab some water, we’re meeting in the livingroom,” Steve ordered.

Sam’s stomach dropped. Cherry on top. He invited his friends with benefits on a date because he’d gone and let his emotions get involved, got stupid drunk, didn’t pay the bill even though it was his idea, and now it was going to end with Captain America telling him that ‘things have been great but I’ve already got someone I actually want to date. Bucky and I have more history, and he doesn’t embarrass me out in public.’

 

Two advil and three glasses of water later, the four of them were sprawled over Sam’s livingroom furniture in a tense silence. Steve was staring at Sam with some sort of unreadable expression, Natasha wouldn’t look at any of them and that meant she was angry. Bucky kept shifting his gaze between all three of them.

It was Bucky who finally broke the silence, “What the fuck?”

“It was a bad idea,” Sam admitted, “we’re just not fancy people, I get it now—except you Tasha. You fancy, huh?” he laughed, but the joke was weak. She didn’t look amused.

“Not the date sucked what the fuck,” Bucky cut back in, “you said we were going to vote you out? What is that? Why are you leaving?”

“Pop culture reference,” Natasha informed automatically, “tv show called survivor. People live on islands and compete for prizes. If you lose you have to vote someone off the island. It’s considered getting rid of the weakest link.”

“That sounds dumb,” Bucky muttered, and then turned back to Sam, “so why? Why are we ‘voting you off’?”

Sam sighed, running his hand over his face, “Look, it’s dumb, okay? I misread what’s going on between us. I got all feelings and mushy. I just wanted us to have a nice first date.”

“Sam I had a good time,” Steve said.

Sam shook his head, “No, don’t say that to spare my feelings. It was dumb, I know it. It’s okay. I’m a grown up. I can handle the feelings.”

“What’s going on between us?” Natasha asked.

Sam shrugged, gesturing at the three of them, “a lot of good stuff.”

They all stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Okay,” he groaned, “yes it’s probably the best sex of my life, but it’s also how I get to wake up and make pancakes in the morning. And how I keep finding all y’all’s shit around my place, and how we’ve got preferred cuddling arrangements. I like the way I feel when I’m with all of you and I like the fact that I don’t have to—don’t _want_ to—decide between you. And I know that’s above and beyond what we’re doing and I’m making it complicated with my feelings. I know when I’m beaten, so don’t worry about keeping me in the loop.”

Sam didn’t want to look at them, wasn’t prepared for how Steve would look. Whether Steve thought Sam was out of his mind for thinking this four-person relationship could actually work, or if Steve was about to say something totally sappy and make both of them cry. Wasn’t ready for Natasha and Bucky’s cold indifference and ability to separate work and play so effortlessly.

“Fuck you,” Bucky snapped, “you think I’m just here for sex? You think I’m involved because I don’t care about all of you? You brought me back—you saved my life. I don’t give a shit if I could have sex with anyone in the world, the only people I want are in this room right now.”

Sam’s mouth felt dry, and his stomach dropped with guilt.

“Pretty much the same argument here,” Steve added.

“But the date sucked,” Sam pleaded, looking for something terrible, “you didn’t want to be there.”

Natasha folded her hands in her lap, “Sam you picked two of the most uncultured people we know to take to a fine dining experience. Plus, if I’m correct, you two did want the date to go well?”

Bucky scuffed his toe on the floor, “Well, yeah. But it was just weird—like, too different. I’m okay with bars or picnics. I don’t get why we had to dress up. None of us liked it, not even you, Sam.”

Sam rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms, “It wasn’t about it being my favorite—I just, I wanted to do something nice, you know? To show that I cared?”

Steve crossed the room to sit at Sam’s side. He was smiling, and took Sam’s hands in his own, “Thank you. It was really nice.”

Sam dramatically flopped backwards, “But I didn’t even pay for it! You did!”

“We have some kinks to work out,” Natasha nodded, “and probably a bit more to talk about. If this is going to get serious. But that can wait til morning.”

Sam kicked up his feet, putting them in Steve’s lap. He was very comfortable right now, and if they were done talking he was going to sleep right now. He was very tired.

Steve pulled off Sam’s socks slowly, enough to tickle, and Sam only cracked an eye as he asked, “You gonna take advantage of me or something?”

“I’m going to get you into some comfier clothing, and then we’re all going to bed,” Steve instructed, “so on your feet or else I’ll have to carry you.”

Sam didn’t bother getting up, just held his arms outstretched like a child begs to be held. Standing took too much effort and his head already weighed too much to be able to sit up on his own.

 

By the time Steve got Sam into bed, with a cup of water on his nightstand, the wine had hit him in full force and the adrenaline rush from earlier had worn off.

He wasn’t surprised when he tried to grab Steve’s arm, that had just finished tucking him in, and punched him instead.

“Stay,” Sam pleaded, though he was sure it just sounded like one long groan, “please?”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Steve offered, “we’re going to all have lunch at mine and Bucky’s place tomorrow, okay?”

“All of you stay,” Sam really had to focus on pronouncing his words, “I want cuddles. Bed cuddles.”

“And just that,” Steve confirmed.

Sam gestured at himself, “little spoon.”

“Bucky’s never gonna let you take that back,” Steve warned, “you know he’s been waiting for you to say that for months.”

“Let me at ‘em,” Sam mumbled.

“Alright,” Steve leaned down to kiss Sam’s temple, “you’re probably not going to remember this part of the conversation, but we’ll stay. I like waking up with you too.”

 

Bucky nearly tore off all of his clothes in his dash to the bed. Being big spoon with him meant having to deal with his metal arm, and so he was always nervous about trying it. Steve was the only one who didn’t really mind the dead weight draped over him, or even under him depending on which way they were facing. Until this point he and Sam had been engaged in a stand-off about who would crack first: would Bucky offer or would Sam ask?

Steve and Natasha followed much slower, taking time to hang up their clothes and root in Sam’s drawers for something to wear. Natasha scrubbed her makeup off while Steve also folded Bucky’s discarded clothing and the two men on the bed started snoring.

Then they had to deal with trying to fit onto a bed that was nowhere near large enough for four adults. Natasha ended up mostly on top of Steve, using his chest as a pillow, and draping her arm and legs overtop of Sam. Bucky was wrapped around Sam like he was never letting go, and even though he was sleeping, Sam was smiling.


	5. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 05 - Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few hours late again (sorry), and short because I'm pressed for time.
> 
> I'm back to having irregular internet, so I apologize in advance for sporadic updates in the future. Thank you to everyone who's reading this, and to everyone who's taken time to leave a comment. Those mean the world to me!
> 
> Enjoy

Bucky kisses like a challenge. He’s rough, and he likes to use a little teeth. It’s playful, but always with an air of danger. He’s not fond of kissing in public, because he always aims to win.

Natasha kisses like she’s leaving. She’s soft but firm, as if she’s holding back because lingering will be too painful. She never closes her eyes because that would leave her exposed.

Sam kisses like he’s having the time of his life. He can’t stop smiling, and usually laughs in delight. He takes as good as he gives. He’s focused, as if the rest of the world can wait for him to finish.

Steve kisses like it’s their first kiss, every time. He’s slow, almost hesitant to start, but finishes passionate and intense. He kisses like he’s desperate to show just how much he loves you.


	6. Wearing Each Others' Clothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this takes place during the movie, between Steve and Natasha showing up at Sam's home, and Natasha and Steve having their heart-to-heart. I know it's more likely that the clothes she's wearing in that scene are her own, but go with me on this one.

Natasha was drying off in Sam Wilson’s bathroom—relatively clean which correlated with his military background, one toothbrush to confirm he was the solo occupant, only men’s shampoo which meant her hair was going to be a mess—when there was a knock at the door. She paused, glancing at her gun which she’d left on the counter top, and the lock on the door. It wasn’t anything sturdy, and wouldn’t hold under an attack.

“Yeah?” she called, reaching for her. If Shield—no, Hydra—had found them, she wanted to be ready.

“I, uh, I’ve got clean clothes for you,” Steve said. Natasha wrapped the towel around herself and set her gun down. Sam had insisted on putting their clothes into the wash while they showered.

Natasha opened the door, and didn’t miss the way Steve kept his eyes on her face. He was wearing an unfamiliar pair of sweats and white tank top that was stretched across his chest and displayed his arms. She wasn’t ashamed that she couldn’t keep her eyes on his face.

“Ours are still washing,” Steve explained, and held out a pile of clothes, “Sam thought these might fit.”

Natasha took the clothes, and glanced quickly behind Steve. She couldn’t see Wilson anywhere. Could they trust him enough to leave him alone. Would he sell them out? Steve trusted him enough, but Steve was naïve and wanted to trust people.

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly, dropping his voice so that only the two of them could hear.

Natasha licked her lips and forced herself to look into his blue eyes, “Yes,” she said. Steve had saved her life. He’d put his body on the line for her, dragged her from the rubble when he could have left her. It probably would have made things easier for him and he didn’t owe her anything.

“Natasha?” Steve looked concerned, though he didn’t move to open the door.

She’d been staring, and there was a lump in her throat that she didn’t know how to clear.

“I’ll be… just give me a minute,” she closed the door as she talked, unable to handle Steve’s concern for her.

The sweatpants are Sam’s, large and baggy and she’s thankful he had the foresight to give her a pair with a drawstring so she can attempt to keep them on her hips. She still has to roll up the bottoms anyways. She expected a big shirt as well but was surprised when the shirt was a woman’s cut, and while it was a little tight, it was fairly close to her size. It also came with a built-in bra, which was a relief as her bra was still in the wash. She glanced around the bathroom again, looking for any signs of a female presence. All observable data pointed to none.

Her hair was still dripping, but she cleared the room and let Steve preen a bit in the mirror (she’s not entirely sure why he’s concerned with his appearance, unless it has to do with Wilson. It might—she noticed him smelling the shirt but that could also be due to the strangeness of wearing someone else’s clothing and having unfamiliar scents on your body) while she towel-dried. Steve was still looking at her like he was actually worried about her, and of course he would be, but Natasha wasn’t ready for someone to care for her like that. She kept her head down and didn’t make eye contact.

Steve does come talk to her. He says he trusts her and Natasha’s heart breaks. She’d seen good men like Steve get killed for their ability (need) to trust.

Shield was Hydra—Natasha had given her life, her redemption, to an organization that just continued to drag her through blood. She had nothing to align herself with except for the fact that Steve was a good man. He would do the right thing. He trusted her, and she wouldn’t let him down.

 

 

Sam smiles at her when they walk into the kitchen for breakfast. She tries to be pleasant back—when she picked Steve up for their last official mission Sam had made it very obvious he found her attractive. It could be useful later if she had sway over him, and so she smiled back and let her assessment of his body be very obvious to him. She was looking for hidden weapons, but he didn’t have to know that.

Sam’s grin when Steve followed in behind her was equally as flirtatious—dilated pupils for attraction, and showing teeth which signified an uncontrollable rush of good emotions. Natasha glanced over her shoulder quickly to see Steve ducking his head bashfully. Oh.

The three of them stood in silence, until the kettle started hissing. Steve and Natasha took seats at the table while Sam made three cups of tea. The table with set with pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast and  bacon. It smelled delicious.

“Thanks for the clothes,” Steve said as they all served up, “and for, well, everything.”

Sam shook his head, “It’s my pleasure, honestly. I’m just glad it all fit.”

“Do you keep lots of spare clothes for strangers?” Natasha plucked at the strap of her tank top.

Sam shrugged, and looked a little guilty, “Well, no, that one belonged to my ex. Thought it would fit you better thank one of mine—unless you like big shirts.” She’s very aware of the primitive male idea that seeing someone in your clothing is a way of staking claim to them. Wilson’s subtle flirtation wasn’t lost on her, nor the fact that he and Steve couldn’t stop glancing at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Natasha couldn’t help herself, and so she reached out to poke at the white tank Steve was wearing (masculine cut, obviously a male shirt that would be modest on Sam’s body but was borderline scandalous on Steve’s wide shoulders and broad chest).

“Is this your ex’s too?”

Steve coughed on his eggs and looked at Natasha like he was being betrayed.

Sam laughed, rising to her bait, “Well obviously not the same one,” he said.

Natasha shrugged, trying to find a comfortable position in trusting Steve’s trust, “You never know,” she smiled.

 

 

Natasha wakes up to the sound of her closet being rifled through. She’s initially panicked—she’s uncharacteristically naked and the gun she keeps under her pillow isn’t there—but then she remembers that Steve and Sam had gone out on a date last night and James had wanted to spend time with her instead. She doesn’t bother covering up with a sheet as she sits up and stretches.

James doesn’t notice her immediately, so she walks heavily as she finds a discarded shirt. It’s her favorite to sleep in, large, soft and stolen from Sam. Her dresser creaks loudly when she looks for a pair of clean underwear.  She’s pleasantly sore, and delighted over the tender bruises James sucked into her sternum last night.

By the time she turns around, she’s expecting James to be looking at her and waiting to make a lecherous remark. He still has his back to her, and his shoulders are hunched. Natasha frowns and makes her way over to him. James still can slip into darker mindsets, and Natasha understands that better than anyone.

He has her clothes separated so he can stare at a gray dress she wore to a Stark even the other night. It’s fairly plain, with a sheen to the material that glitters under soft light. All three of her boys had been unable to stop themselves from telling her how beautiful she was, James especially so.

She comes up on his side, touching the small of his back but not putting any pressure on him to close him in. He hesitates a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m different,” he says in way of explanation.

“Everyone changes. No one expects you to be the same,” she says, just as vague. She’s not sure what he’s getting at—not certain what all the information presented is telling her.

“I’ve always been different,” he continues, “I… I’m remembering. Slowly, but it’s always been there.” He’s tense, and struggling to breathe normally. She hasn’t seen him so distressed in a long time.

Natasha isn’t stupid, and she lives in a world where everything can change in a heartbeat and she lives in a world where no one should be compartmentalized completely on their appearance. She’s well aware of how easy it is to fool people into thinking you are something you are not.

She’s not shocked when James asks, “Do you think it would look good on me?”

Natasha shakes her head, “No. Not that one,” James stiffens under her touch and she knows he’s about to close off and make a joke to hide his hurt. She reaches out to pull it aside and reveal an emerald green dress she wore a few months ago, “the gray would wash you out, take away from your eyes. This is much better. Plus, I think we’re a little different in size.”

James exhales slowly, and she can feel him shaking under the soft touch of her hand.

Natasha takes her hand off of him to find a comfortable skirt. She doesn’t have many. Most of her feminine clothes are for work, as she likes to relax in sweatpants or shorts. Instead she finds an old sundress that has an elastic top, which should stretch over James’ chest.

“Try this,” she tells him, “it takes a little getting used to moving around without pants on, and I won’t tolerate you looking uncoordinated in an expensive gown.”

James’ eyes are bright and he takes the dress without a word. She does her best to act nonchalant and let him know she isn’t bothered by this in any way.

James requires a little help to tie up the strings. The elastic bands will hold the dress up on its own, but the strings make it appear like it’s a halter top. She knots it for him and steps back so that he can look at himself in her mirror.

His eyes are wet, and he struggles not to cry. He takes his hair out of the loose ponytail and lets it fall around his face. She hasn’t worn the dress in years, and later she’ll let him know he can keep it. It’s probably the only thing she owns that will fit him anyways.

“Would you like to try some makeup?” Natasha asks. She’s calm, and she’s running through a list of things she needs to know.

James starts at her voice, and laughs at himself. He can’t take his eyes off of his reflection.

“No… not today,” he finally says.

“Okay,” Natasha nods, “let’s make breakfast.”

He follows her into her kitchen after a few minutes, lifting the bottom of the dress every few steps to feel the way the fabric moves against his skin.

They have cereal, toast and tea. James has trouble sitting down comfortably at first—surprised at the cool chair against the back of his thighs. He shifts a lot as they eat until he gets comfortable. Natasha nudges his knee under the table with her foot.

“Remember that unless we’re home, you have to keep your knees together.”

His hands shake as he clenches his mug, but he nods quietly.

“I need to ask a few questions that you might find invasive,” Natasha tells him.

He looks up at her, frowning.

“One time, just to touch base,” Natasha says, and then continues, “do you want to change your pronouns? Do Steve or Sam know, and do you want to tell them? Is this cross-dressing, dressing for your gender or something else? And, would you like to start buying some feminine clothes? We can keep them here if you would like.”

James looks overwhelmed by her questions, and mulls them over in his head.

“I… I’ve always—even before, when it was just me and Steve—I was different,” he says, and she can see his frustration that he doesn’t have the right words.

“Are you a woman?” Natasha offers.

James shakes his head, “No, no. I mean—I like women, like, I liked it when the queens or queers bigger than me would dance with me. I didn’t mind being their dame sometimes—but I also like being a man.”

“Have you heard of androgynous? Or—I’m a little out of date with terms, but fluid, I think?” Natasha offers, “Or you don’t have to have a label at all. You know I don’t for my sexuality—but it can be nice to know where you are on the spectrum.”

James nods slowly, “Yeah. I… I want to be both, but neither. I don’t know. I just… I like,” he gestures to the dress, “I like this. But I also like being your man.”

Natasha taps her foot against his leg again, “You’ll be mine no matter your gender.”

He smiles at that, “As for pronouns… I… I don’t know. Are there ones for people like me?”

Natasha nods, “There are a lot of options. We can look them over.”

James leans back in his chair, “Steve and Sam don’t know. I… I think Steve might think something. I don’t know. We both dragged up a few times, and I was probably a little too enthusiastic about it because it was the only time I got to wear dresses and be told I was pretty. It… this isn’t like that,” he tells Natasha, “I want to be told I’m, well, pretty. But because I am. Not because it’s an act. This is me.”

“Do you want to tell them?” she asks.

He takes a shaky breath, “Yeah. I don’t… I’m scared, even though I don’t think they’ll care. They’ll say it won’t change anything and it won’t, at least I hope it won’t, but I’m still so scared. I almost couldn’t do it today.”

Natasha’s heart has crawled into her throat and she’s still unprepared for how her boys—her lovers—can draw reactions like this from her. It scares her a little to be so vulnerable and exposed (three targets are a greater risk than just one, than none at all) but she’s never been happier in her life.

“I’m happy,” she gets out, “that you shared this with me.”

James looks like he wants to berate her for being sappy, but he’s got tears in his eyes again and he smiles back at her.

“Steve and Sam—and me—all love you for who you are. This won’t change anything. But it is all on your time. Whenever you’re ready,” Natasha takes a sip of her tea to cover the crack in her voice. They’ve all said ‘I love you’ to one another, at one point or another (some more than others), but it still feels like a punch to the gut to realize that yes she loves them and, yes, they know it.

James sighs loudly, “I… I don’t want to hide anything. I guess if I’ve come this far I might as well go all the way. I don’t like secrets.”

“It’s not a secret,” Natasha says immediately, “it’s if you’re comfortable or not.”

James’ lips pull into a tight line. He looks contemplative, but decided, “I want to be. How about we surprise them for lunch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genderqueer Bucky (especially post-winter soldier) is my treasured headcanon and I always want to come back to it. 
> 
> Natasha's comment about her sexuality being unlabelled is another headcanon of mine. I see her mostly asexual and especially aromantic, but obviously she's in love with her 3 partners, and does have sex with them which she does enjoy (which surprises her) so she's on the ace spectrum, but doesn't really bother with pinning down a label.


	7. Stargazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would probably give this chapter a slightly more mature rating- the ot4 is in a totally sexually-happy relationship and not afraid to talk about it. But that's all they do, is talk about it occasionally. So... no actual sex but lots of discussion and allusions to.
> 
> Also this ended up being more outsider(ish) pov than intended, so there's that! Maybe one day I'll actually write the literal prompt and not a loose interpretation of it.

It’s nighttime, because Sam had to stay late at work and refuses to wait any longer. They’re driving out to their cabin so that they have some privacy and don’t have to worry about power lines. Sam has been waiting for months to get the delivery from Wakanda and Steve and Bucky packed a few bags for all of them as soon as it arrived at the Tower.

Tony was adamant that they let him test them before Sam got back, even to see if he could make any upgrades. Natasha had to threaten him with a widow bite before he would back off. To compensate, they’ve decided to make a weekend of being out at the cabin.  Well, Tony insisted he and Bruce were coming out and Clint wanted to see if the neighbors’ dog was around.

“Stark knows that we go to the cabin to have really loud sex where he can't purposely interrupt us?” Bucky asked from the back seat.

He and Natasha were taking up the back seat, while Steve was passenger to Sam’s frantic driving. Sam usually drove, unless it was Steve’s motorcycle, but he was normally much calmer. Sam’s new wings were in the large box between Bucky and Natasha. Steve had put it there on purpose because the last time Bucky and Natasha had been together in the back seat en route to the cabin he’d gotten her off twice before they arrived. It had been a particularly difficult drive for all of them and Sam had almost crashed enough times that they’d decided it shouldn’t happen again.

“We reminded him but he said he’d bring ear plugs,” Natasha replied.

“I think his obsession with technology is kinda gross,” Bucky said.

“Some would say the same about your obsession with oral,” Steve replied.

Bucky stuck his tongue out at him, “I don’t see you complaining.”

“Stark just can’t accept that he’s not the greatest,” Sam announced loudly, “and so I am going to school his metal ass in the air, and then we are going to celebrate by breaking the bed.”

“No,” Natasha said quickly, “we _just_ bought this one.”

“Okay,” Sam complied, “we are going to have earth-shattering sex that is going to involve all of you appreciating how wonderful I am and how happy you are for me to have wings again.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said, and his warm hand settled on Sam’s knee.

 

Regardless of Clint, who jogged down the road to see if the neighbors’ dog was outside, they were all gathered on the back porch to watch Tony and Sam take off in the backyard.

“Finish line will be back here—start whenever you’re ready,” Steve explained.

“Bruce I expect you to make sure the judging isn’t biased,” Tony told him before lowering his mask over his face.

“And don’t bother the neighbors,” Natasha told them.

Sam spread his wings and made a display of showing them off. His goggles were new as well and featured a few different lenses that allowed him several types of vision enhancements. Including detailed night vision.

“I expect victory kisses when I’m back!” Sam shouted, and then took off.

They hadn’t turned on the porch lights, and were just leaving the indoor lights on for Tony and Sam to find their way back to. It meant that the stars and the moon were especially bright now.

“Wow,” Bruce whistled, “look at all of the constellations. You don’t see this in New York.”

“You used to be able to,” Bucky told him, “Steve and I loved to climb onto the fire escape to look at them. I mean, I don’t think it was as clear as it is out here, but there were still more than you can see now.”

“Must be nice,” Bruce offered, “that at least the sky didn’t change.”

Bucky nodded, a little uncomfortable talking about how much his life had changed, “You want a beer?” he offered instead.

“Sure,” Bruce said, “just one though.”

Bucky nodded to the house, “I’ll show you where we keep ‘em.”

 

Natasha and Steve were standing close to one another, watching the lights over the lake that were Tony and Sam. They were swooping and diving, climbing high until they looked like stars, and then falling back down. Steve’s stomach lurched at the idea of falling so far, and reached for Natasha’s hand to ground himself. He’d never really understand Sam’s need for the air, or why he found flying to be such a comfort, but Steve was happy that he had wings again.

Bucky was making small talk with Bruce, which was good because Bruce was someone who was calm and nonjudgmental, and could be a good friend for Bucky. Their mutual distrust of government agencies, love for quiet spaces and their need to keep all of their food from touching should be a good base to form a positive relationship.

Steve turned to ask if Natasha was cold and wanted his jacket when she squeezed his hand tightly.

“Get ready, here they come,” she called.

All three men sat up. The lights out on the water were far away—well past the other end of the lake—but were now heading in a straight line towards them.  The four of them stood on the edge of the porch.

They could hear Sam and Tony now—cheering and laughing as they trash-talked one another. They were coming in at incredible speed and both braked at the last second. Tony was coming in low while Sam had climbed high to take a large dive. Tony threw his hands forwards as he cleared the lake, slowing down so that he couldn’t hit the cabin. Just as Sam dove down fast—fast enough that Steve’s stomach rolled nauseatingly—and folded his wings as he rolled across the ground.

“Well? Who won?” they both shouted.

“Hard to tell,” Bruce held up his hands in a placating gesture. It had been extremely close to tell.

“Should we do it again?” Tony asked.

“So I can beat you again?” Sam flared his wings.

Tony lifted his mask, shaking his finger in Sam’s face, “Oh no, padewan, I am certain I won this race.”

Clint wandered out of the bushes, holding his hands above his head, “Hear ye, hear ye!” He looked like he’d crawled all the way back and was covered in mud, leaves and twigs.

“What were you doing in there?” Sam asked.

Tony shot Sam a worried look, “Do we really want to know?”

“Well I went to see Brewsky next door,” Clint started.

“Who won?” Bucky called.

“Excuse you I was talking!” Clint shouted back, “anyways, Brewsky’s mom got mad when I came by even though she said I could walk Brewsky whenever I was out here. Then, on my way back, I found a baby raccoon on its own so I had to chase it into the woods to save it but then I found it’s mom so he was okay. I found this really cool stick and I was thinking I could take up whittling and maybe make a cool arrow or staff out of it.”

Natasha had her face in her hands, trying to forget that Clint was her friend. He’d had a good streak of not doing anything weird for a few months, and she’d been hoping he’d grown out of it.

“Yo, Clint, nice story but we really need to know who won. Did you see that?” Sam interrupted.

Clint frowned, “I didn’t even get to the best part yet.”

“Doctor Doolittle, c’mon,” Tony pleaded.

Clint shrugged, “Sam, obviously.”

Tony let out an anguished howl and dropped to his knees as Sam leapt into the air with a loud cry of victory.

“Legolas how could you betray me?” Tony whimpered.

Clint shrugged, “House always wins. Besides, they’re giving us free food.”

“And beer,” Tony consented.

“But mostly food.”

 

Sam landed again right in front of the porch, “Anyone up for a ride? We can do some real cool stargazing from up high.”

Steve and Bucky both took a step back. Natasha schooled the embarrassment off of her face to smile at him.

“I think it’s a no for them, and I’m not so sure I trust those things,” she admitted.

“They’re totally safe,” Sam pleaded.

“All the stars I want to see are right in front of me,” Steve said in his sappiest tone, meaning every word of it. Natasha buried her face in her hands again, this time to hide the flush on her face. Sam laughed so hard he had to sit down. Bucky punched Steve in the arm, torn between laughing and being disgustingly flattered.

Clint and Tony started loudly retching and dramatically threw themselves to the ground to writhe in mock agony.

Bruce’s hands were coming up to cover his face, and he gestured weakly at Tony and Clint, “I—I’m sorry about them. I really am.”

“That was disgusting!” Tony shouted, “you should be ashamed, Cap!”

“They like it!” Clint was crying in disbelief, “look at them they’re all blushing! They like it!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “They’re not your problem, Doc. Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen. I, for one, think we’ve got the best view of the stars from the bedroom.”

Sam jumped to his feet, “Oh I really have to agree there. Best seat in the house.”

Steve helped Sam take the wings off and set them inside. The rest of his gear could be taken off in the bedroom.

“Have a good sleep! Hope you were serious about those earplugs,” Bucky shouted to Clint and Tony.

Natasha tugged on Bruce’s sleeve and gestured inside, “I’ve only told Tony and Clint about the pull-out and the couch in the living room, but we’ve got a separate guest bedroom upstairs if you want to get away from them,” she glanced at Tony and Clint who were just realizing why the other men had retreated and were staring to make lewd jokes, “plus there are some earplugs in the pantry. James and Sam snore terribly loud.”

Bruce was relieved, “In the pantry?”

She shrugged, “Steve and James have very weird ideas of where things belong. But like James said, help yourself to anything you would like. The sunroom has a space heater in it if you’d like to read out there.”

“Um,” Bruce nodded slowly, “well, good night, I guess?”

Natasha grinned, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know what you were getting into. Yoga in the morning?”

Bruce’s face felt hot as he tried to pretend he wasn’t thinking about the fact that there was going to be an orgy going on in the same house he was in. He nodded quietly to Natasha, and didn’t watch her as she walked inside.

Tony and Clint had quieted down now, and walked up to the deck.

“Well, gentlemen,” Tony said, “either we make a drinking game consisting of guessing who’s in what position or make bets on who’s louder, or we go see if we can join in.”

“How about a nature walk?” Clint offered, “I found lots of tracks.”

Bruce shook his head, “grab some beers. Let’s go sit on the dock for a little while. When’s the last time you guys ever saw a night as clear as this?”


	8. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is roughly set in the same universe/timeline as the ‘wearing each other’s clothing’ (chapter 6) in which Bucky came out as genderqueer. Since that bit, Bucky has come out to Steve and Sam and now uses gender neutral pronouns. 
> 
> Slightly mature warning on this chapter as it talks about sexual scenarios, but no actual sex in it.
> 
> (Any requests for scenarios/situations y'all would like to see the ot4 in?? If I can fit it into the daily theme I will 100% do my best to)

“You all didn’t have to come,” Natasha told her entourage. They had been whining and complaining for almost an hour now.

“You said you were shopping for lingerie, of _course_ we had to come,” Sam said, “but you didn’t say it was going to take forever!”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Only James needed to be here. You and Steve are welcome to leave at any time, but I appreciate you being here.”

Having three incredibly fit people follow her around made carrying bags a lot easier. Natasha had dragged out her shopping a bit longer than normal. Part of her wanted Steve and Sam to go home so she and James could surprise them later with their purchases, but there was something to be said for getting to know their preferences.

The shop Natasha had chosen was practically a boutique, and she knew they wouldn’t raise any fuss about her harem of mostly-male followers. Plus they would be able to help her size up James for anything xie wanted. She’s made them take the long route there so that she could take time to update her wardrobe and help James pick out a few outfits—as well as some new shirts for both Steve and Sam who loathed shopping.

 

The shop was mostly empty when they walked in, which was a relief because Steve and Sam could go sit down and stop complaining about their sore feet or backs or whatever body part they were being petty about.

Natasha browsed slowly, letting James hover in her shadow where xie could pretend like xie was just helping her shop. They had vastly different tastes—Natasha liked plain underwear, usually black, that could last her for a long time. James liked incredibly feminine things with bows and lace and bright colors.

Steve and Sam called out their opinions (positive to everything) from across the store, which had all of the workers in stitches. It helped to keep James smiling, but Natasha wondered if a quiet, calm atmosphere would be more conductive to a positive experience for xir. James wanted Steve and Sam with them regardless of her opinion.

James was terrified to try on any bras or slips but Natasha insisted that xie didn’t have to come out of the changing room, but she needed to know if everything fit properly or not. The sales people had figured out their situation and were doing an excellent job of staying back unless Natasha or James directed a question to them.

Steve and Sam hovered anxiously, as close as they could get to the change rooms. Natasha was waiting until James was done trying on all of xir items before she went through and tried on her own.

When James quietly asked if she could help xir with the clasp on one bra xie had tried on, Natasha waved Steve and Sam away before they crowed in with her.

“Go do something useful and find something each of you wants to see me in,” she said, “and if I like it I’ll even buy it today.”

Steve saluted briefly, while Sam dashed off on the spot.

James was looking desolate, stripped down to xir boxers, and wearing a bright yellow bra that was twisted up from xir trying to pull it off.

“I look stupid,” xie muttered.

“You look beautiful. You always do,” she replied, turning James’ shoulder so she could get to the clasp on the back, “yellow isn’t a great color for you, though. I’d start with nudes and blacks, just subtle ones that go with everything. Unless you want it for show. Then we can go neon or those lacy see-through ones. I think I’m going to get one to surprise Sam on his birthday.”

James smiles, “He’ll love it.”

Natasha leans in to kiss James’ bare shoulder, “Let’s get matching pairs. That will really drive him wild.”

James’ smile drops, “My shoulders are too wide. I look stupid.”

Natasha sighs, “James you have an incredible body. You’re in shape, and you look great for your age. I love every inch of your body. It’s who you are.”

James picks up a blue bra. It’s covered in ruffles, and came with matching underwear.

“I liked this one,” xie admitted.

“That’s a very familiar shade of blue,” Natasha notices.

“Steve’s birthday is coming up,” James admits, “and I want to surprise him. He won’t admit it—not yet, at least—but he thinks that the idea of me in lingerie is really hot. He doesn’t know how to explain that he respects who I am, but also has a fetish.”

“Boys are dumb,” Natasha agrees.

James laughs at that, “Did we ever tell you that Steve once got hired to draw dirty comics? Like, real nasty things. I ended up posing for more than half of his drawings. That’s how I figured out he liked me in women’s clothing. I mean, nothing ever came of it because neither of us were sure what it meant about who we were, but we both knew something was there and that’s why we didn’t stop for a while. So I wanna make something of it now.”

“Well, as long as you’re getting something then this trip is a success. Now, are you okay if I try on my things?” Natasha steps back.

James nods, “Yeah, I’m done. I’ll wait for you outside?”

 

Steve and Sam both returned with three different outfits each. Sam loved see-through things in pastel colors with ribbons that made her feel like a present to be unwrapped, whereas Steve liked dark, heavy material that no doubt made Natasha look like someone in charge and not to be argued with. She sent the two of them to go get the car so that she and James could buy their new lingerie and keep it a secret.

Steve pressed a pair of sheer lace panties into her hand, along with his credit card, before he left.

“Don’t tell Bucky,” he whispered, “or Sam. I want to surprise them.”

He was out the door before she could think of anything witty to say. She used his card to pay for everything, since Steve would be upset if they tried otherwise, and managed to keep Steve’s acquisition out of sight.

James couldn’t stop smiling as they drove home. Sam and Steve were adamant it was time for a post-shopping nap and then a show to display all of the new purchases once they got home. Natasha rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. Shopping was difficult with all four of them, but on days like today it was almost worth the trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading (and commenting) y'all are the best!


	9. In Pajamas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the idea of them being 'in pajamas' and only mentioned it like twice and went in an entirely different direction. Enjoy a Christmas theme while it's the middle of summer (in Canada at least)
> 
> Sexual situations highly suggested/implied so be warned. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been leaving feedback! I love each and every one of your comments!
> 
> Unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own.

There isn’t any snow outside, and the forecast doesn’t call for anything heavier than a flurry that will melt by the next morning. It’s unnaturally dry, there isn’t even any predicted rainfall, but it’s cold enough to avoid being outdoors still. As far as Christmases go, it’s fairly disappointing.

It’s their first Christmas together as a whatever-they’re-calling-it, and they’re spending it in the Tower with Clint, Bruce, Tony and Pepper. Dinner was a loud affair, with free-flowing champagne and gift exchanges. Sam has been wearing a Santa hat all night (he and Tony were fighting over who was the best Santa and who’s lap everyone should sit in) and the bell on the end has been ringing every time he moves his head so that it’s practically become white noise.

It’s well into Christmas Eve, more likely early Christmas day. Sam’s well on his way past drunk, even Natasha is flushed (and has been slurring her word, not that she’ll ever admit to it) and Bucky has a red glow to his cheeks. The four of them have finally made it down the hall—a tangled mass of groping, laughing, champagne and eggnog—and into Steve’s room.

Steve and Bucky took apart their rooms so that their two mattresses were pushed together, taking up most of the room. They were crammed with an assortment of pillows and blankets to create a nest.

“This is great!” Sam shouted, and he danced into the room. Bucky lunged after him to make sure he didn’t spill champagne all over their blankets.

“And no broken boxsprings?” Natasha reached out to snag Steve’s shoulder. He stood still and let her catch her balance, but didn’t comment on it. She’d be upset if anyone pointed out how much trust she was showing by letting her guard down.

“I doubt they’ll even squeak, so Clint can finally get a good nights sleep,” Steve said.

Natasha snorted, and let her hand trail down to pull Steve into the room by the front of his pants, “He’s just jealous.”

They’re all still dressed up from dinner, although Bucky is wearing a tie around his head. Both he and Steve have the top buttons of their shirts undone, and only Bucky is wearing an undershirt. Sam insisted on wearing a hideous giant sweater, calling it tradition, and Natasha is in a very tight red dress that has been slowly riding up her thighs all night. Steve’s been tuning out Tony by imagining thousands of scenarios that end with himself on his knees in front of her, but he’s got a few more things to do before they can get there.

Bucky spins Sam around and dips him dramatically, only to drop him onto the bed. Sam retrieves his hat, rolling and laughing in the blankets, and Bucky helps Steve grab the presents tucked under the tiny Christmas tree in the corner.

Natasha and Sam are kissing by the time they turn around.

“Hey!” Bucky snaps, although he’s laughing, “inappropriate!”

Sam breaks the kiss and his nose wrinkles into a grin, “It’s Santa’s night tonight!” and he shakes his head to make the bell on his hat jingle, “and if you want me to _come_ tonight then you better hope we’re asleep soon.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “That was a terrible joke. _You_ have to be asleep soon so you can make it to your family brunch.”

“So you better make sure I tire out really fast!”

Natasha was smiling like she was up for the challenge, but Bucky tossed a present between the two of them to keep them from kissing again.

They’d agreed to have a private gift exchange on top of the Tower exchange. Their rules were that the gifts had to be useful, and that they all had to be the same so that there was no fretting about getting everyone a unique gift.  

The four of them gathered in a loose circle on the bed, Sam sprawled out on his side and Natasha with her knees tucked up underneath her. Steve was sitting cross-legged, while Bucky was kneeling.

“Okay,” Steve looked at the labels of all the gifts in his hands, “these are from Sam, these are from Bucky—”

“Careful, they’re fragile,” Bucky grabbed his presents from Steve’s hands to set them down gently in front of everyone. They had a distinct mug shape, including crudely wrapped handles jutting out, but no one commented on it.

They quickly distributed the rest of their gifts so that everyone had an equal number of three. Except Sam had only bought one present. 

“Trust me, it’s for all of us,” Sam said to their stern looks, “but leave it for last.”

“Let’s start with mine,” Natasha offered.

The boys eagerly opened her gifts—box-shaped, but thin cardboard suggesting clothing—but only Steve took the time to carefully peel the wrapping paper apart to avoid tearing it.

She’d bought them all pajamas. The fabric was light, but soft. It would be warm, but wouldn’t overheat them in the summer.

Natasha shifted uncomfortably under their attention, “After seeing what all of you sleep in, I figured we could use a little update.”

Bucky snorted and gestured at Steve, “Do you really want him to cover up?”

Steve shrugged, “Well, as long as they’re not too hot I guess I can wear them.” Steve, somewhat notoriously, always ended up naked by morning due to overheating during the night and with three other people piled on top of him.

“Well we gotta test ‘em out!” Sam shouted. He tried to get his sweater over his head, but from his position laying down he only managed to get tangled in it. Steve reached over to help pull him out, before standing up and undoing his pants.

Steve paused with his belt undone and glanced over to Natasha, “If we get new clothes, what are you sleeping in?” 

Natasha grins slyly and winks at him, but immediately breaks the charade at the look on his face and bursts out laughing.

“I bought myself a set, but they’re in my room,” she explains.

Steve winks at her, “Don’t get them, you can wear my gift.”

He folds his pants and Sam’s clothing, setting them on top of the dresser crammed against the other side of the room. There’s not a lot of extra space with the double-bed setup, but at least the clothes will be out of the way. Bucky helps Natasha unzip her dress before he takes off his clothes and hands them to Steve to put aside.

“This seems counter-productive,” Sam mentions as the three boys get dressed.

Bucky reaches out to tug one of Natasha’s brastraps off of her shoulder, and she playfully bats at his hand, “I don’t know,” he says, “I really don’t mind.”

“I did my best to find clothes that would fit,” Natasha admits, “but if they don’t I’ve still got gift receipts.”

Sam’s fits perfectly, Bucky’s are a little long in the inseam because he insists on wearing his pants obscenely low on his hips. Both his and Steve’s shirts stretch across their chests, Steve’s more so, but just enough to look pleasant to Sam and Natasha and not enough to be uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” Bucky tells her. While she’s now the only one in the room in her underwear, that’s not what has her blushing.

Steve sits down and tosses a loosely wrapped gift to Natasha. He hands out the other two to Sam and Bucky as Natasha tears hers open. It’s a dark blue, fluffy housecoat. She smiles wider and pulls it on, wearing it like it’s a fur coat and ties the middle so that it hangs open on her chest.

“It’s like kittens!” Sam exclaims. His housecoat is a lighter blue.

“You’re an ass,” Bucky says from Steve’s other side. His housecoat is pink.

“I thought it would suit you,” Steve grins. In defiance Bucky puts on the robe, and exhales loudly in surprise.

“Oh my god this is soft,” he groans.

“They didn’t have any other colors that would fit me,” Steve, cuddler extraordinaire, admits, “so the rule is that all of you have to keep me warm when you’re wearing them.”

Sam decided that was a great idea and crawled over to lean heavily against Steve, draping his new robe across their laps. They both idly stroked it while Bucky nervously passed around his presents.

They all got mugs with a letter on them, and a sample set of teas. Natasha’s had an ‘N’, Sam’s an ‘S’, Bucky’s a ‘J’ and Steve’s a ‘P’.

Steve burst out laughing and had to press his hand over his mouth to try and stop. Bucky was grinning ear to ear.

“I feel like I’m gonna regret this—whats ‘P’ stand for?” Sam asked.

“Well I didn’t want you and Steve getting confused, so I used Steve’s other name: Punk,” Bucky says the word as if it’s precious.

Steve reaches out to click his mug against Bucky’s, “And J for Jerk,” he says, just as sweetly.

Bucky shook his head, “It’s J for James.”

Natasha made a noncommittal noise, “I think it probably stands for Jerk.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side! You’re the only one who calls me James!” Bucky cried.

Sam sat up excitedly, “Can we open my present now?”

He didn’t wait for a response and pulled the last present from the middle and dropped it into Steve’s lap.

Steve glances up for permission from Natasha and Bucky, before he carefully starts to unpeel the wrapping paper.

“Oh my god,” Bucky growls, “you’re gonna take forever!”

He lunges to rip the present from Steve’s hands, but Steve holds it just out of Bucky’s reach. There’s a jingling sound from the box.

Natasha frowns and glares at Sam’s wide grin, “Sam what did you get?”

Steve finishes unwrapping the box, which is taped tightly together. He resentfully hands it over to Bucky, who tears into the cardboard with enthusiasm.

Bucky rips the flaps open, displaying what’s inside.

“What the hell?” he announces.

Sam bursts out laughing, rolling away from them because he can’t just sit still.

Bucky pulls out long chords of leather, criss-crossing and connecting in some pattern he can’t discern yet. The leather is fastened with small bells that jingle. There’s a plastic part that looks almost like a bit.

“Did you buy bridles?” Natasha almost shouts, “as in _horse_ bridles?”

“That’s not all,” Bucky groans, and he reaches into the box to retrieve a candy-cane colored crop.

Steve is silent, staring at the bridle and crop in Bucky’s hands and glancing at Sam.

Sam manages to recover enough to sit up, still wheezing with laughter, “Oh man you should see your faces. _Priceless_.”

“Why?” Natasha asks.

Once they’d used a cheap scarf to tie Steve’s hands behind his back, and Sam had once been blindfolded. Sometimes one of them would take charge—more often Natasha—to form a little order in the bedroom. But they’d never experimented beyond that.

Sam picked his cheap hat up from the blankets and put it back on, “Because if Santa’s gonna make everyone happy he’s gotta ride his reindeer hard tonight.”

Steve’s mouth drops open and Bucky barks a laugh.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “He doesn’t ride his reindeer, Sam. They pull his sleigh.”

Sam shakes his head, and gestures to the box, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Those are joke gifts—unless there’s no problem,” he glances around quickly, “the real gifts are taped to the bottom, under all the tissue paper.”

Bucky tosses the bridle and crop at Steve, who flinches, and dives back into the box to retrieve three packs of Christmas-themed condoms and candy cane-flavored lube.

Bucky sighs with relief, “Yes, these are exactly what I wanted for Christmas.”

Sam nods enthusiastically, “I had a feeling.”

While they banter Natasha notices Steve idly touching the crop with his fingertips. He happens to glance up and notice her staring, and pulls his hand away. She files that away for further inspection, but obviously right now is not the time.

She stands up and undoes the knot at her waist, letting her robe slip over her shoulders to fall at her feet.

“Gentlemen,” she says with a grin because she can’t believe how silly she sounds, “I think it’s time we get in the holiday spirit.”

The boys are out of their pajamas in record time.


	10. Caught in the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually Chapter 11, as chapter 10 (animal ears) is going to be fanart but it's not done yet.
> 
> Thanks for waiting so long! I started writing a mini-road trip au for this and the next two prompts (it was going to be a three-chapter story) but it got out of control and so now it'll probably be a separate ot4 story.
> 
> Unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own. Warnings for talks about sex and one sexual scenario briefly described.
> 
> This is set sometime early in Bucky's road to rediscovery.

“Bucky wait!” Steve shouted. He cleared the deck and stairs in two steps, and hit the dirt running. The dark thunderstorms overhead were looking full to burst and by blocking out the sun they left an ominous dark in the woods around the isolated cabin the four of them were living in.

Bucky’s metal arm reflected hardly any light as he ran into the trees. Steve could barely keep him in sight as he followed. He didn’t know where they were going, but he’d follow Bucky anywhere. Even after screwing up this badly.

He should have told Bucky—had begun to assume that Bucky just _knew_ —but Steve should have known that he didn’t. That Bucky was trying to trust Steve to say everything at face value and to keep no secrets.

Then again, Steve hadn’t expected Bucky to walk in on him sucking Sam’s dick while Natasha and Sam made out above him. Bucky was supposed to be out on a walk in the woods like he did frequently and it had been so _long_ since the three of them had been able to do anything together.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted again. Sam and Natasha would be following soon, he suspected, once they’d gotten dressed, but they didn’t have the serum like Steve and Bucky did and it would be a while before they caught up to them. Steve had to make sure he didn’t make this situation any worse than it already was.

Bucky finally skidded to a stop, and whirled around to punch a sapling with his left fist. It snapped and the thin trunk collapsed onto the larger tree beside it. Bucky roared with emotion, rather than any words. Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling.

“Bucky I’m sorry,” Steve said softly, coming to a stop only a few feet away, “I didn’t mean for you to—”

“You said you loved me!” Bucky shouted.

Steve nodded, and held up his hands to show they were empty. Bucky already knew Steve wouldn’t raise a weapon against him in self-defense, but it usually helped to relax the taut line of Bucky’s shoulders, “I do. I have and always will.”

“How can you say that? Do you say that to them? Are all three of you laughing at me?” Bucky kicked the broken sapling stump furiously.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked.

Bucky growled in frustration and swiped his hair out of his eyes, “You chase me around the world. You make me come here, make me stay with you. You tell me all… all these _things_ and I don’t know if I remember or if it’s your words in my head anymore. But I feel like I remember things—I feel like I remember being human, and you tell me you loved me. That you _still_ love me, even though you’ve seen the things I’ve done. I’m a monster!”

He turned his back to Steve and screamed loudly at the encroaching darkness around them before he turned back to Steve, “I was stupid! I was so stupid! I was foolish and blind and I wanted someone to follow.”

“That’s not true!” Steve took a step forward, “we aren’t holding you hostage here. We care about you—we want you to be safe, Buck! And I do love you.”

There are tears in Bucky’s eyes, and both he and Steve were surprised by them.

“Why are you so angry?” Steve pressed, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Sam, Natasha and I. But I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“You said you loved me, as I am,” Bucky swiped at his eyes with his right hand, “you said you loved me even though I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” Steve said sternly.

“I am!” Bucky shouted, “I’m a weapon! I want to kill everyone who made me who I am! I want to tear them limb from limb and I want to feel their blood soak my boots! I am not a good man and I don’t deserve to be loved, least of all by you!”

Steve moved forwards to grab Bucky by the shoulders. He wanted to shake him out of the thoughts he was stuck in, but Bucky pulled away and barred his teeth.

“But…” Bucky’s voice broke, “but I wanted to be loved anyways.”

Steve stopped in his tracks.

“I have always been admired and feared, but as a weapon. The Asset. But you love the parts of me that want to be human. You love the parts of me that are evil. And I wanted that… I… that’s how I knew I had to have been human. Greed. I’m a machine, I don’t deserve any love, but I want it.”

Steve shook his head, his heart breaking, “Bucky you’re human. That’s why you deserve to be loved. Because you are a good man and you have been forced to do terrible things. You’re a victim. I love you because I know you. I will always love you, and you should never feel greedy for that. Everyone deserves to be loved.”

“You’re a liar!” Bucky stepped forwards to challenge Steve, “how can you say you love me when you love _them_?”

“I—” Steve’s words are caught in his throat, and just then Natasha and Sam’s voices carried to them through the trees. The wind had picked up and the trees were beginning to knock their branches together.

“I don’t know if love is the word—” Steve started, and then looked into Bucky’s face, “Buck… sex doesn’t mean love. Not in the way I mean I love you. Sam and Natasha… this thing the three of us have,” he can hear the two of them crashing through the undergrowth behind him, knows they’re close enough to hear him now, “what we have is something that makes us all happy. And, I guess I do love both of them in different ways.”

Bucky’s face twisted in confusion, “But you can’t love me and love them.”

“I do,” Steve replied. He wished he felt more sure than he sounded. He, Sam and Natasha hadn’t really talked about what they were doing, other than agreeing that it was something that they were all happy to keep going.

Bucky shook his head and stepped back while grabbing fistfuls of his hair, “I don’t understand. You can’t! It doesn’t… I don’t understand.”

Steve felt a hand pat his arm, and Natasha moved past him to stand closer to Bucky. She leaned down just enough to catch his eye.

“I’ll be honest I only just caught the end of the conversation, but I think I have an idea of what’s going on,” she said, “can I try to explain?”

It spoke wonders to Bucky’s level of trust in them that he was letting all three of them see him crying and not in perfect control. Bucky nodded slowly.

“Humans have sex for a variety of reasons—mainly boiling down to the fact that it feels good, and it’s a way of expressing attraction to one another. But people don’t always have sex because they are in love. Sex and love are two very different things. You know that, right?” she asked.

Bucky shrugged, but his eyes were wide in a way that made him seem almost naïve, “In a broad sense, yes.”

“Steve, Sam and I have been following your trail for months. We started having sex along the way, and it was mostly for fun because we were attracted to each other, but along the way,” she glanced back at Sam and Steve, and her clinical voice became warm with fondness, “we might have fallen in love. But you’ve always been the most important. No matter what we did, we weren’t complete until we found you.”

“In the movies, and the books I read, you can only fall in love with one person at a time,” Bucky replied.

Rain started spattering on the ground around them. Natasha muttered a few choice curses at the weather and pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

“Dude,” Sam spoke up, “I think we need to talk about not believing everything you read or see in the movies. And this means we have been letting you into all the wrong things. See, Steve here is a special case. His heart’s too damn big to love just one person, but you make up a significant chunk of it. Now, it’s definitely our bad for not telling you sooner, and I’m really sorry you had to walk in on us like that. But you don’t have to worry about us kicking you out or anything, okay? We’re here for you.”

Steve walked forwards, and took Bucky by the shoulders so he could pull him into a hug, “I love you, and I mean it,” he whispered, “I’ll go with you to the end of the world, Buck. And if you need me to stop, I’ll stop. I’d leave them for you,” Steve leaned back so Bucky could see his face, and he gave Bucky a lop-sided smile, “but I would rather not. They make me really happy. And I think they’d make you happy too.”

“Do you want me to have sex with them?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, “Not unless you want to. You don’t have to have sex with anyone.”

“Good,” Bucky nodded, “I don’t desire it.”

“Can we go back inside?” Steve asked, “before we get caught in the rain?”

Bucky nodded, and Natasha was already scrambling for cover beside Sam.

“Can I sleep with you?” Bucky grabbed Steve’s shirt to keep him from pulling away. Thunder boomed overhead and the rain started falling in earnest.

Steve bit his lip, thinking quickly, “Of course. But like, not sex, right? That’s what you said.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone. I don’t like it. And I wake up alone,” Bucky admitted, “and I’m scared this is all going to go away. I don’t want you to go away.”

Steve untangled Bucky’s hand from his shirt, and then moved his fingers between Bucky’s so that they were holding hands, “I won’t let it. I love you Buck, and I mean it when I say that won’t ever change.”

Sam and Natasha were up ahead, “Let’s go!” Sam shouted, “I’m getting soaked!”

“I remember when I first woke up, after the ice,” Steve said as the two of them walked, hand in hand, back to the cabin, “that I woke up alone a lot. And I hated it. And when I got to wake up next to Sam and Natasha, it was probably double the happiness.”

“I don’t know if I have the capacity to love them,” Bucky told him.

Steve shrugged, “That’s okay. But they care about you, and they want to be your friends. What’s a little bit of cuddling between friends? I think it would help if you tried to be their friend too.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand, “I don’t know if I have the capacity to love you either,” he glanced at Steve’s face, “but I like how it feels when you say you love me. If you love them… then I’ll try to care about them too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to take this as asexual Bucky, or even Bucky being in love with Steve but platonic to Sam and Natasha, whom Steve is also in love with or whatever you want, really. There are so many different ways poly relationships can go.
> 
> I like to go for the full-out ot4 myself, but it's open to interpretation for a reason (:


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art Post- Actually Day 10 but I'm slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I got a little carried away because werewolves and so now it’s a modern au and Steve is the only human among them. Originally they were all gonna kill/eat him at some point but it’s cool now. They all adore him and will fight off any supernatural threat and get very menacing and protective in response to any natural one. Also something to be said for overcoming inter-species conflicts and finding ~true love~
> 
> And yes that is supposed to be a diabetes indicator bracelet on Steve’s wrist!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone writes anything in response/because of/.in spite of this please lemme know. I have a _craving._


	12. Day 12 - Making Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken time to read this, and to everyone who has left me a comment. I love you all!
> 
> This chapter just did not want to be written, and so I apologize for the long wait.
> 
> As usual, this is unbeta'd. I take credit for any mistakes.

Sam was pretty sure he’d been invited by accident. He was far too middle-class (lower middle class, mind you) to feel comfortable at this sort of party and far and above he was very outclassed by the fact that he had no superpowers to speak of. Stark’s whole ‘Celebrate the Heroes’ gala was some rich bullshit, filled with lots of high class people who wouldn’t bother to look at Sam twice if he wasn’t wearing a ridiculous fake medal that meant he was one of the superheroes in question. From there some of the blank faces turned into recognition, and the rest were just blank enthusiasm because they now understood he was a superhero but they didn’t know which one. It was just as bad as all the people asking about how Tony came up for the inspiration for Sam’s wings and how Sam had to keep politely explaining that Tony had nothing to do with his wings and _then_ try to find the nicest way to say that Wakanda made several of Stark’s toys look like a high school project.

Steve was being swarmed by adoring fans and women who couldn’t stop from touching his arms. In this kind of public setting it would be too obvious for Natasha to swoop in and save him (not that there weren’t enough rumors about Steve and Natasha’s sordid romance and the apparent triangle between Natasha, Steve and Clint). It would also be weird for Sam to rush in and pull Steve out because Sam still hasn’t mastered not looking like an angry, possessive lover when dealing with people fawning over his lovers. He’s placating himself with the idea that right under Steve’s collar are a ring of hickeys from Sam and Natasha during the ride over to the gala.

James was the only lucky one with a reasonable excuse to get out of most busy, public events such as this. It was unfortunate, as he looked wickedly good in a suit and he probably would help ebb the crowd of people ogling Steve.

Natasha’s touch was light on Sam’s back, but with her full hand which sent a thrill down Sam’s spine.

“Southeast hallway, second door. Thirteen minutes,” she whispered into his ear, and then was sliding away back into the crowd.

Sam licked his lips and tried not to look too excited. He managed to shake a few more hands and distract himself at the refreshments table (there was some really good cheese sauce he needed to get the recipe for) all the while checking his watch as often as he could without being rude.

Sam made it through the sea of smiling faces and idle chatter with barely a minute to spare. He glanced around nonchalantly before calmly slipping through a closed door that led to the hall Natasha had directed him to. He hoped.

She was waiting with a flute of champagne and a killer smile. Natasha was absolutely stunning in her black cocktail dress. It was cut low enough to emphasize her bust, and trimmed neatly around her waist and hips so that she made for a striking figure.

“I’m here—now what did you have in mind?” Sam asked.

She played coy, and glanced around at all of the artwork on the walls, “It’s quieter back here, and you looked like you could use some time away from Steve’s fans.”

Sam grimaced, “That obvious?”

Natasha’s heels clicked loudly on the floor as she slowly made her way down the hall. Sam pulled off his suit jacket and decided to follow.

“Yeah I guess I’m just not used to this whole secret relationship thing,” Sam sighed.

Natasha shrugged, “But he’s coming home with you, well with _us_ , so that’s what really matters, right?” she glanced over her shoulder, “are you going to want to have jealous sex with him when we get home? I can call James to set up the other bed for you.”

Sam laughed, “Your face gets all scrunchy when you talk about me and Steve having sex.”

“You have a lot of it,” Natasha pointed out, “and then we have to do a lot of laundry.”

“You could always join,” Sam offered, “I know for a fact that Steve would love to get you—and Barnes—into bed with us. That could be our new movie night plans.”

Natasha gave him a scathing glare, “But then when would we watch movies? You understand how important it is to get Steve and Bucky caught up with pop culture.”

“Okay we have some fun, and then watch a movie? Or vise-versa. I’m just suggesting an option,” Sam shrugged.

Natasha chuckled, “Yes, but your option involves me sleeping in a room that reeks of sex. No thanks. Besides, you, Steve and I tried the whole sex thing before.” She scrunched up her nose in lieu of finishing her sentence.

“Hey,” Sam pleaded, “I thought it went really well!”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Don’t be childish. It was fine, and I liked being with you two. But… it’s still not for me.”

Sam nodded and got an arm around her waist, “Fair is fair, I suppose.”

Natasha sipped at her champagne and leaned her shoulder into his chest, “I hate pretentious parties like this. I’d much rather be at home.”

“In borrowed clothes, I assume,” Sam added.

Natasha smiled. It was a slight tilt of her lips and a flash of her teeth, “It’s comfier that way.”

“Mmhmm,” Sam nodded, “now, since we’re alone here and we’ve abandoned our boyfriend to hordes of handsy rich people, can I kiss you?”

She tilted her face up in response, holding the flute away from them so that Sam didn’t knock it as he leaned down to kiss her.

Kissing Natasha was always a thrill. Sam was a big fan of kissing and really liked it when he had specific people he was allowed to kiss all the time. Natasha had a way of turning a quick kiss into something they spent all evening doing. With his arm around her waist Sam tried to pull her in closer, tasting a hint of champagne on her lips, before she pushed him away with her fingertips on his chest. She gave him a quick peck on the corner of his mouth before slipping away, a coy smile on her face.

Sam groaned, “You trying to hurt me?”

“I’m not done my champagne,” she replied, “besides, I didn’t just escape a room full of ‘handsy rich people’ to be cornered by another one.”

“You’re in luck, because I am definitely not rich,” Sam laughed, and in a few steps was at her side again. He pulled back her hair to kiss her neck and Natasha slipped out from under his hands again.

“That’s unfortunate,” she called over her shoulder, slowly making her way down the hall again, “because I have high standards.”

Sam caught up to her in two steps, “You have no standards,” he teased.

She slipped her hand around his waist and he put his over her shoulders so that they were hip to hip, and kept walking along.

The paintings on the walls were renaissance-stylized renditions of the Battle of New York. They were all a dizzying array of color with dramatic contrasts to make it appear like it was an obvious light vs dark battle. Steve’s chin was definitely too square—and his butt was actually smaller than what the artist had depicted, but overall it was an interesting way of looking at recent history.

“We should get a picture for James,” Sam said, “he’d get a kick out of these.”

Natasha slipped her hand into Sam’s pocket without a word, and he tried to not get too excited about feeling her fingers against his thigh. It was through fabric, sure, but her hands were warm and soft at the touch and Sam’s only human.

Natasha stepped back to get a good angle to take a photo from. Sam tried to not panic at the fact that she never asked the password to unlock his phone—such was the bane of dating someone who hacked systems and stole important data for a living—but there really wasn’t anything to hide from her on there, save for the few pictures he and Steve had sent back and forth. It wouldn’t be anything she hadn’t seen before, but she’d probably find them funny and while Sam was pretty pleased with how he looked, having an attractive woman giggle at his nudes wasn’t his idea of a confidence-booster.

“Oh, hold on,” Sam told her, and jumped into the picture. He posed so it looked like he was about to go toe-to-toe with Steve.

“Pinch his butt,” Natasha instructed, and when Sam moved to follow her orders, “okay, lower your hand a bit, no—bring it a little closer to the camera.”

They spent a few minutes with Sam posing with all the Avengers—including kissing the painting-Natasha’s ass, followed by picking her nose—before they switched places.

There was a bench a little closer to the door they’d come through, and they made their way back to it while they looked through the photos they’d taken. Sam had to stop walking a few times to double over and laugh. When they sat down he pulled himself tight to Natasha’s side and let her pick the photos to send to James.

 _Thinking of you <3\. _She added after sending the pictures.

They got a response almost immediately.

_What are you doing? Where is that? Are you at the party?_

Sam leaned his head on Natasha’s shoulder, blowing her hair out of his face, to watch while she replied.

_Sam and I are hiding. Too many people. ): All they want is to take pics with Steve and Tony._

_But you two are really photogenic!_

_I KNOW!!!! It’s very rude. Sam is very jealous because people keep touching Steve._

Sam blew a raspberry into Natasha’s neck, and she flinched away with a bark of laughter, “I am not jealous!”

_Now I am jealous. :( You should all come home. It is too quiet._

Natasha glanced up at Sam quickly before replying, _We will soon. Steve has to stay for a bit longer, but then we’ll watch a movie tonight._

_Why does Steve have to stay? He hates crowds._

Natasha was frowning, _if he never appears then he’ll be a mystery for people to pry into. Plus it’s nice to see him in his nice suit._

_I like his butt._

Sam snorted.

 _Sam says he likes his butt too._ Natasha added, _also you should put the sex cover on the other bed. Sam won’t stop kissing me because he’s mad about Steve being swarmed by pervs. They’ll probably want to have sex when we get home._

“Hey!” Sam shouted, “I am not being that bad right now! Besides, I’m totally not mad about Steve being mauled by everyone with eyes.”

“Definitely not,” Natasha replied, deadpan.

 _Okay_ , James responded. _I will make the bed—but they cannot sleep after. I want to watch a movie with all of you._

“You two make sex such a chore,” Sam muttered, “and we haven’t even discussed having any tonight. I don’t even know if Steve’s in the mood; or if I want to.”

Natasha shrugged, “You and Steve have sex like it would kill you to stop—you can’t blame James and I for getting bored of hearing the headboard hitting the wall.”

“I’ll buy you earplugs,” Sam laughed, and kissed her shoulder.

_Okeedokee. You pick the movie and I’ll have the horndogs home before midnight._

 

Steve nearly collapsed into the limo when he was able to close the door. He looked miserable, and started tugging at his tie.

Natasha took it from his hands—she’d tied it in the first place—and used it to pull Steve’s face closer to hers so she could kiss him. Tension started flooding out of Steve’s shoulders, and he reached out to tangle one of his hands in Natasha’s hair, and place another at the curve of her waist.

Taking Natasha’s lead, Sam leaned in to place a warm open-mouthed kiss to Steve’s throat. Hearing the wet sounds of Natasha and Steve kissing spurred him on, and he started sucking at the spot. Any hickey would heal by morning, so there was no danger of marking Steve in visible places like this. The ones under his collar might already be fading.

Steve groaned at the gentle press of Sam’s teeth to his skin, and pushed Sam away enough that he could turn to kiss his mouth.

While Steve and Natasha had been kissing slowly and gently, to help Steve relax, Steve kissed Sam hard and with an intensity that went right to Sam’s dick. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to just keep kissing like this, or lean back so that Steve was on top of him or even push Steve down and take him right on the floor of the limo. His hands weren’t sure where they wanted to be, but one of them found their way to Steve’s thigh and gripped Steve’s cock right through the fabric.

Okay maybe Sam _was_ feeling a little possessive. That, and the realization that he could be having sex in a limo was making his head spin a little bit.

“Oh my god,” Sam could actually hear Natasha rolling her eyes, “can’t you wait until we get home?”

Steve pulled back and gave Natasha an attempt at a bashful smile, “You sure you don’t—”

“James put together the other bed,” Natasha shook her head, “besides, I don’t want to get any stains on this dress. Can we just go back to kissing?”

“You two can kiss—but I really need to blow you right now,” Sam admitted.

Steve had a full-body shudder, and looked back to Natasha.

“You’re going to have sex in like twenty minutes—plus there’s a driver right there!” she sighed, “but fine. Just make sure it’s clean, okay? I wasn’t kidding about the dress.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam almost growled, and then he was sliding between Steve’s legs. Steve made quick work of his own belt, and pulled his own slacks and underwear down. Natasha was already kissing him again, so Sam didn’t bother making eye contact or engaging in any pre-blowjob banter. Steve wasn’t even half-hard yet, since this had all started pretty suddenly, so Sam spit in his palm and took his time stoking Steve to attention. It gave him the opportunity to watch Steve and Natasha kiss—they always looked really good kissing and Sam was really _really_ into the idea that these two people making out could also make out with him—and to watch Steve’s full-body flush start on his face, and to watch Steve gasp into Natasha’s mouth as Sam alternated tight and loose grips.

The limo ride was almost too short but Sam managed to get Steve to come just as they pulled up. He was still swallowing and Steve was still tucking himself in when the three of them stumbled up the steps to Sam’s home.

James came to greet them as they were taking their shoes off. He was wearing his yellow rubber gloves for washing dishes, and the house smelled like baking.

“I made cookies,” he explained, “for the movie.”

“You’re my favorite,” Natasha practically cooed at him. She cupped his face in her hands in order to kiss him. He held his soapy hands to the side to keep from touching her dress.

Sam unzipped Natasha’s dress while Steve moved in to kiss James as well.

“How was your night?” Steve asked.

“Quiet. Lonely,” James admitted, and he let Steve hug him and pressed his face into Steve’s neck. James pulled back after a moment, sniffing.

“Did you have sex already?” he asked.

Steve grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah, we got started on the ride over.”

“And we’re gonna go finish now,” Sam interjected, “because I am still feeling really possessive.”

Sam looped an arm around James’ waist to hug him in greeting, but James gave him a disappointed look when he pulled back.

“I want a kiss,” James demanded.

Sam shook his head, “Dude my mouth is still totally full of spunk, sorry. Don’t think you’ll be into that.”

James blinked in surprise and glanced at Steve, whose pupils were definitely blown and who was looking at Sam in a way that reminded Bucky of someone starved. He looked back at Sam, glanced at his feet, and then back up at Sam.

“I want a kiss,” he repeated.

It was Sam’s turn to be surprised. He recovered quickly, as Steve let out a startled sound beside them, and leaned in for a slow, closed-mouth kiss. Still keeping his soapy hands away, James craned his neck to push into the kiss, and tentatively licked his way into Sam’s mouth.

They kissed for longer than Sam or Steve expected them to kiss, and James was the one who pulled away. His brow was furrowed like he was processing new information. Sam tried to discreetly put a hand over his growing erection to try and get back under control until he could make it to the bedroom.

“Anything you like?” Sam asked.

James licked his lips, still going over the taste of Steve’s come from Sam’s mouth.

“It wasn’t… unpleasant,” he finally said.

Steve’s voice sounded tight, but the excitement in his eyes was clear enough, “Do you… did you want to join us, Buck?”

Natasha’s astonished voice shouted from the kitchen, “Are there _marshmallows_ in the cookies? James I am going to marry you!”

James broke into a smile at her words, and glanced between Steve and Sam before frowning again.

“Not this time,” he shook his head. He had yet to go past making out with any of them, and they all did their best to make sure he never felt pressured to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “but if you change your mind you know you’re always welcome.”

He leaned in to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s temple before heading down the hall. Sam followed just far enough that he could admire Steve’s ass in his fancy suit.

“Do you think you can do it fast?” Natasha stuck her head out of the kitchen as they passed.

“You can’t rush these things,” Sam scolded her, “I have to properly debauch my boyfriend before we can come eat cookies and cuddle.”

Natasha laughed and stuck her tongue out at him, “If you take too long I’m going to eat all the cookies. These are incredible.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Steve assured her.

They took the stairs two at a time and Steve grabbed Sam right inside the spare bedroom to kiss him. It was sloppy and open-mouthed and Sam loved it. He got one of his legs between Steve’s thighs and tried to put a little pressure on Steve’s dick, and to let Steve feel Sam’s own cock coming to life.

“We might have to take a little while,” Sam said between kisses.

“I know you love shower sex,” Steve replied with a grin.

“How about we skip the shower,” Sam offered, running his hands up and down Steve’s back and trying to forget the idea that dozens of people had been touching Steve and imagining having him in their bed. Sam was the one that got to take Captain America—Steve Rogers—to bed, not anyone else (unless Bucky changed his mind, but Sam was okay sharing with him)

Steve pulled back slightly to look Sam in the eye, “No shower? Nat _and_ Buck don’t like it when we stink. And we did promise them a movie.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t kidding when I said I was feeling possessive,” Sam growled, and pushed slightly so that Steve’s back hit the door, “I really, really hate the idea of all those people touching you, and thinking they can have you when—”

Steve groaned softly, “I’m yours. You’re the only one taking me home.”

“So I gotta admit to you,” Sam was feeling a little embarrassed, but spurred on by the way Steve was grinding against his thigh, “I really wanna push you down on this bed, fuck you hard and come on your back. Wear my shirt for the movie and I guess we can shower before bed. How does that sound?”

“Holy shit,” Steve practically whimpered, “ _yes_!” and then he was shoving Sam back onto the bed.

 

James finished washing his baking dishes and stripped the gloves off. His metal arm was waterproof, but he wasn’t fond of the feeling of water inside of it. Plus water always took a long time to drain from it, and so the gloves were just more practical all around. He hung his apron on his hook and went out to join Natasha in the living room. She was laying across the couch, dressed in baggy clothing she’d probably stolen from all the men in the house, playing games on Sam’s phone and eating cookies.

James climbed onto the couch with her, and arranged himself so that he could lay his head on her boobs. It was the ideal resting place since it was the softest spot on any of their bodies, save for Sam’s bum, but this way he could hear her heart beating. And she could play with his hair.

“What movie are we watching tonight?” Natasha asked.

Upstairs they could already hear the rhythmic creaking and bumping that meant Sam and Steve were having sex.

James pondered the idea of going up and joining them. He’d used to really enjoy sex, before the war. It didn’t have much appeal for him now, though he was finding that he was aroused by the idea of having sex with Steve or Sam from time to time. He still wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to act on that arousal. Especially if it meant taking time away from Natasha running her fingers through his hair in ways that made good chills go down his spine, and made him bury his face into her body so he could smell her better.

“Dragonheart,” he replied.

“Hmm,” she nodded sagely, “it’s good, but lesser known. Not much modern pop culture can be taken from it. Did you want to watch anything more relevant?”

Bucky shifted his head to glare up at her, and her hand stilled in his hair.

“But dragons,” he said.

Natasha took another bite of a cookie, and nodded.

“But dragons,” she agreed with a full mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we have a slightly different version of the ot4. For clarification purposes, Sam, Steve, Bucky and Natasha are all in a romantic relationship with one another. However, Natasha is asexual and not interested (potentially grossed out, but accepts it happens) in sex. Sam and Steve are very happily sexual with one another, and Bucky is currently not interested in sex, and may never be. I hesitate to label him as asexual, as his avoidance/disinterest in sex stems mostly from his experiences under Hydra control and his recovery and I want to avoid any implication that asexuals are born from trauma.
> 
> Finally, it's legit that Natasha texts with emoticons. She may be a world-class spy that makes men tremble at the sound of her voice, but she totally uses words like 'okeedokee'.


End file.
